Years

I count the years but not the days.

I doubt I'd remember them

Anyways. If the months I chose, I'm afraid to say, I'd still not remember a single day. For the memory I have usually serves me well, on specifics I'm lacking I'm afraid I should tell. But surely I recall some hours of late, even though I'm not certain on what was it's date. And for the minutes I'll leave them, but only for now. For those I remember the clearest somehow. It's the seconds.. oh the seconds. These, I cherish as though they are not of time. And I'm saddened that those are only mine. For the seconds I live them, each day in my mind and I so wish to share them so they're not confined. Some bring laughter. Others joy. Some tears. And I hate there's so few, after so many years. But I put them in order with sixty the goal, for that is a minute made out of pure gold. Those minutes I take them, with the same goal in mind. And the best day's when I've done it, twenty four times. The days are much longer so my goals now in half. For thirty of thems a marker, if I've done my math. And that is a month, of the best times I've had. So I sit her in silence, as my clutch reaches 12. And play them like a movie, to see the story they tell. I see joy, pain and laughter, from my eye drops a tear. All the best things together, only made a year.