Monday, June 18, 2007

Countdown

In the hour it takes to till the ground
We could sit on the bench and sort it out
Or pick the blooms from the garden we found
Deciding which ones we can't live without
In the minute it takes to tie your shoe
You could easily send your love to me
But you have more important things to do
And you'll send your love eventually
In the second it takes to feel my kiss;
My lips turning up into a smile
We'll turn down the chance for pure happiness
Distance will grow into western miles
In the moment it took to write this poem
I calculate the times you left our home

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