The Rhythm And The Rhyme Poem by Yorktown Disciple

The Rhythm and the Rhyme
The pace of ceaseless time,
Linger the dismal day
As if the pace were mine.

Sublime in every fashion
This Shape surrounding me,
Beaten into a perfect mold
Like the sand beneath the sea.

Time has brought me here
Time will take me away,
The passing of a moment
Reaps the passing of a day.

Wrinkles cling to my face
Weather beaten and worn,
The Motion I find everywhere
Is gathering in its Form.

It counts out the Rhythm
It adds to the Rhyme,
It flows ever so gently
As if the pace were mine.