Perfect timing at 11:59.
At around midnight, the Sun does shine.
Easy on the eyes, ecstatic and sublime.
True to the Word, the bread that's divine.
What's written is signed at the right time.
No need to bind, souls lost at once.
Mixing the drink, with wine, the double cup.
Walking through, He says, "What up?"
At the same time, the Priests begin to cuss.
Nothing to trust, 12:01, it's lunch.
Back of the bus, behind the dump truck.
As in such, the goyim that are stumped.
thanks for sharing...you should add this to the Writer's group...if we still have one...
I need to get back into writing poetry..haven't done it in over a year.
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