~365~

With heavy hand night lifts then lights
each star upon the sky,
And moon bestows waning reprieve
one day of life's gone by.

Within grip the passing year
holds each second tight,
Releasing only when in full
stroke of twelve, midnight.

Ticking down and winding out
to spread or spoil within,
Already seeds the coming days,
365 again.

sinnaminsun 2010

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