It is twenty seven now.
Last week was twenty six.
I continue to count somehow
And my memory never sticks.
I hold the line for fear of loss.
If I forget the thread will break;
The cracks of time will fill with moss.
It seems there is so much at stake.
I know there has to come a time
When my numbers mantra cease.
I tell myself it will be no crime;
It will be time for that release.
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