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Jun 2011
The days keep passing, don't they?
Even when I watch with my unblinking eyes
the stoic clocks that only emanate innocence.

Time passes slowly, here.
The languid ways with which the water careens
and sways
-and how even the air stands still
wisping softly between our fingers
and our hair.
The space between then and now grows
smaller, yes
despite the sorrow that comes with
dwelling and indifference.

And each day, I and the sun
will do that which is impossible-
endure
patient
ly
Amanda Evett
Written by
Amanda Evett
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