I belong to a bank
Which holds no dimes,
Nor quarters, nor bills,
But rather; Time.

Every second that I have
Is a second that I store.
Thirty seconds in the vault
Means thirty seconds more.

I put away this time
For something I want more…
Because the more I put away,
The closer I am to your door.

The program is quite sturdy
And if my time stays true
Then I get fantastic interest:
That Interest? It’s You. Poem: Bank On It 1

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