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May 2015
Every top of the hour
I just can't help but see you at the top of the tower.
The sand in the glass getting lower.
Close to the edge
I can see your toes hanging off.
Sand trickling down
Like the time on a grandfather clock.
Where's my grandfather now?
Passing time.
Growing anxious.
You get ready to leap.
Somebody flipped the hour glass
I guess we'll get another chance to meet.
John Byrd
Written by
John Byrd  Detroit
(Detroit)   
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