Folding Time
P Patti Masterman
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In some alabaster glass, I shine
Face fresco'd by the day's first light
As time draws down to the finest line,
Noon-day clouds have attained their height.
Hours pass by like a highway flows
Turns day to night, and new to old
Till the pile of minutes soon has grown
Too tall; so then the time must fold.
Bu şiiri puanla
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