Quarter of a day.

Time is not on the menu.

Ryhme does continue.

Logic is not a topic.

Reason is the rave of the season.

Oh what iambic syllables is willing and able.

Then the stanza ran away with my pizza.

All this ryhming not of harmony,

at what depth,

value,

pitch,

tone,

tempo and cadence condone.

Oh sweet smile of sleep won't creep.

Should I sound a long cry as I try to track those tears left my eye a long time back.

When in attack all emotions rack.

Then yes time is of the essence,

what dime of time can make me such 3 to 9.