Calendar

I look at my calendar, clean as slate,
no day is marked.
Yet I count the days to an unknown date,
to a fresh start.
Until that time whenever it shall be,
I will continue to grow, patiently.
The time will fly,
beginning’s nigh,
as the days count down sacredly.

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I wrote this poem in the form of a 16th century Ronsardian ode.