'Thought I loved nights;
best among all;
dreams for the silence;
that stings and crawls;
shines then the far east;
gleaming soft warmth;
turned life my night dreams;
'waken so forth.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry is a sense-blossoming flower that never wilts.
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'Thought I loved nights;
best among all;
dreams for the silence;
that stings and crawls;
shines then the far east;
gleaming soft warmth;
turned life my night dreams;
'waken so forth.