It only takes a minute
To pen a heartfelt line
But what becomes the limit
Is what becomes of time.
Overcome with activity,
Dreary task lists full,
Soon becomes proclivity
Towards immediate pull
Of urgent demands
That consume the sands
Of time.
Prophesy often becomes
A self-fulfilling bit,
That what is overcome
Is not what plans had knit.
Ah yes, those best-laid plans
Are lost in workaday,
To be forgotten what only can
Make boldened efforts pay.
Just spend a moment to capture
Some thankful words complete
In card that might bring rapture
For those who are so sweet.
Remember simply the time they take
To offer what warm feelings make.
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