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Thursday, December 26, 2013


A week goes by without an eyelid bat'd
Soon a month and then a year
As she jived across that room night last
I asked if time had slowed down
In the morn, there was a change
Time was slower still
The scent of a spice lingered longer
And, once again, people seemed antish
It was time to stop
And look at the pastures
And the rocks looking down on me
And take pride in my creations.

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