The days receive numbers to mark their many moons
They are packed in tiny squares, lined up by sevens
And stacked high by fours
Twelve large boxes swallow the constructs
And stand together, a silent and bleak train of time
Waiting for motion
They are packed in tiny squares, lined up by sevens
And stacked high by fours
Twelve large boxes swallow the constructs
And stand together, a silent and bleak train of time
Waiting for motion
1 comment:
Bravo. This is fantastic.
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