A Poem by Douglas Prophetic

This day we hold dear.
Forgotten three years henceforth.
Live again, Leap Year.

See, we never remember
A day in September.
Or November.
Or December.
But the end of winter.
Just a splinter.
24 hours forgotten in spite.
Call it false, or true.
Both critics are right.
I tell you, I find it silly.
That you would pick a day
That's hardly chilly
To be executed every four years.
I wish to buy Leap Year a drink.
Tap glasses, yell "Cheers"
See, we deny the existence of existence
When we skip a day yearly.
But madness has a method.
It's worked SO well clearly.
It started with a day.
Ended with a planet.
This all-devouring vortex,
It even revealed Janet.
It's so sickening,
I think these people plan it.
Villains of the universe.
Pick a target scan it.
Bring back Pluto.
Bring back Leap Year.
Before they take away something you hold dear.

© 2008 Douglas Prophetic

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Added on September 8, 2008