Euphony

Four hundred fifty and seven hours When all we owned were April showers Taking a chance on a pixelated face Became the preferred post-coup de grace You elected against the unpolished show When you tossed the dice atlas in tow Our nerves had a knack for steering the wheel When you came home they proved puerile We would have danced if there had been rain When the stars fell silent on mid-west plains Running the veldt with our dreams in tow We seized our future and made it so Now with this seven month’s consequent We count our grace and build our monuments To one thousand holidays now forthcoming A binary euphony, a song never ending