Is It Poetry
Upon Your Head - Poem by Is It Poetry
Wild was time when racing by
stars could count the years
spinning earth into the dawn
your open eyes and morning yawns.
Seconds long each minute found
the waiting of the slowing hand
waning such it trembles thus
the hour hear, 'drawn near.
Past has flown to present now
tomorrow crowns your King.
Within each land there where
you dwell, inside each heart it hears.
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