Days With No Hours

The prose of the common text

By which we communicate

By which we in common fetch

Conceptions to illustrate

Is poetry with no rhyme

Fortuned for allotted fate

In the day with no hours

That resolves to have no date.


Cadence marches time with step

With second hand slips away

Into hours filing forward

Storing thoughts in disarray.

The months and years tally scores

The paints are mere reflection

Rays of smiles that warm our hearts

Through loving interaction.


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