silently, each day is counted
and yearly a new season begins
i look at the clock, it never stops
quietly, it says; tic-tic, tic-tac
gently the hour hand moves across
pushing the sun to the other side
low and behold, the night comes
and another new day is born
oh my calender, my calender
when wilt thou stop counting
and let the sons of men rest
from the troubles of each day
written on the 8th April 2011
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