Tuesday, July 17, 2012

sonnet two hundred two

the minutes pass, the hours
clawing the distant dawn,
awaiting your gaze, and all
i could remember was how

we both have appeared
in this time - and how
nothing could be more exact
and everything that breathes

is finite, i trace the thousand
sunrises and sunsets with
my discerning eyes,

knowing ultimately that none
of the mornings or evenings
past would compare.

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