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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.
