Cross To Cross Poem by James McLain

Each year when time becomes of.
And day seeks completion between dawn.
This person whom fights with,
the horn or the wing.
Can not escape from that ones death.
The cross to cross in order of it, to.
Constant night the still morning is mixed,
when it is seen to return,
and the stars are gone and the sun has yet to be found.
Younger and middle aged older,
Babies and feeble centurions to be raised,
every day like that, older every day.
Time like me you have felt when I do not come.
But speaking about it I become wasteful,
from the wax on the seal it is applied you are forcing.