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
Copyright © Zach Sarver | Year Posted 2015
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