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Sonnet of Time

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Ev’rywhere its soldiers walk endless lines,

Marching forward never once looking back.

Its troops guard the breath of a newborn child,

Its hands circle around, then they attack…

It seems to speed with ev’ry passing day,

It seems to taunt the sorrows that I grieve;

I beg shamelessly as it comes my way

And spend the stolen light with raging need.

I spread my fingers out to grasp for more,

While precious droplets slip through gaps between -

Too much is lost; too much I can’t restore,

Too less is caught; the minutes now flow free…

Too late to sing the words I’ve never sung,

Too fast the circling hands of time have run.




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