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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Experience >> ID #1328236 |
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You wait for time
Every hour you hear that chime It might be four, it might be five Somehow you are still alive By the mystery of time The short hand points at the hour Every time you gaze at it you 'come sour For maybe you are late That would be my fate Why wait for time There is not much 'fore you die You are not old It still has not been sold
© Copyright 2007 Chikfrog Bob (UN: chikfrog at Writing.Com).
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