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Watchful
May 27, 2011
Seconds dance around an impatient clock,
like days longing ro be circled on a calendar.
Minutes creep slowly,
intending to travel steadily.
Hours hope to be remembered
by sturdy hands clicking past.
Days blend,
Months are set in stone,
like fossils hiding in a hollow cave.
Years end in speedy silence,
Glad to be finished counting.
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