Being With You

the cock crow melts down the dark and dormant hours the stars are right with the twinkles of hope; the sun starts to grow limbs in the sea, river and streams the clock runs with undivided steps measuring each second, minute, and hour with equal passion as if it has something grand to catch up with; like ants on the summer wall always in the act, as if it will run out of time, that the world would pass them by the second pushes the minute, and the minute the hour as each tries to give the other the edge of the day one, two, three, four, five o'clock and the race never ends passing the baton here, there to add up the age of the day