The dark of morning,
greets me ironically,
laughing within itself,
and daring me on,
yet I gingerly yawn.
The dark of morning,
seeing me monotomously,
bored with itself,
brighting finally into dawn,
but I'm already long gone.
The bright rays of morning,
catches up to me finally,
unapologetic and proud of itself,
and watching me, a pawn,
in a painting another artist has drawn.
YOU ARE READING
A Gaze Through My Reality-scope
PoesieA collection of 100 of my poetry works which are available on other sites, with a few exclusives.
