Rhymes
In the time
That there is no rhyme
One rhythm will fade.
Yet others take up the clamour
Pick up their instruments
Hold,
Just hold that pose.
Another minute
Let the applause carry on
As the conductor of all rhythms
Steps astage.
It is like the ocean.
Disturbed in its manner
Separated, batons rise
Fingers at the ready
The rhythm begins
As does the rhyme,
And there is the time.













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