From the whisper of trees,
To the voice of the storm;
Lifted on scattered bees,
Revolving, changing its form.
Life is all but a moment,
A single chime of the clock,
Beyond human measurement,
Shaping our lives, steel and rock.
Days it can seem,
Hours it might be,
Minutes it could have been,
Or seconds some agree.
Yet I, shall treasure,
Every fleeting moment with thee,
Within the chasms of my chest,
Immortalising you.
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