The Dawn
Watching the sun go down appears to me a weary sight.
Its vestige hangs like sack-clothe,
its smile a fractured grin.
The water washing away its pain.
If only for the morning
and the gentle breath of dew.
Without such elegance
my enchantment would fade
completely.
So I stand, a soldier,
against the light,
fondling my shadows.
Wondering…
pondering
this moment…
and…
The Dawn.
The Dawn ©
