September 9th

It was a warm day, unlike any I’ve seen
I went about my path, constantly I
clicked my animator’s tween.
My madness was cured and I rejoiced,
my face lacked its anguish – perfect;
now all I needed was that voice.
Hours went by and seemed to pass
like sands breaking through
their eternal hourglass.
Time was made of vectors and blurs
I couldn’t be happier, myself,
now that I was hers.

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