Its nine, nine, nine,

Indeed quite fine,

With so much of sunshine

Its nearly divine.

 

For people in the shrines,

and those in the mines,

The day will be as fine,

As other days in line.

 

Dates are but times,

just trapped in confines,

Those calendars in lines,

Not all add to nines.

 

If you listen to those crooks,

Who bend and blend the books,

you'd lose the sense of time,

and stick to number nine.

 

09/09/09  Ahmedabad