Sonnet of Lingering Days and Filling Pages

Could days here pass as perfectly as this?
With sun lingering on the horizon
Days so crisp on page I know I will miss
Warm cozy closeness when pages are done

But shelves keep filling not beneath notice
Filling faster still when halls brim with Hope
Like a flower singular black lotus
Costless, priceless, unseen bloom beyond scope

By your eyes I count all gained as nothing
And nothing known as worth the vintage wait
An end secured that all leave with something
To spur one's return for the narrow gate

Could these eyes watch this sunset forever?
And witness season's cycle whenever?

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