Monday, August 24, 2015

March 20, 2013 | Sunrise

When the morning crests the surface,

Touching down with a gentle yawn,

The air is warm with soft caresses;

Night raises its curtain for the dawn.

A rushing wave that passes over,

Filling my head with goldenrod light;

A hushed stretch and unfurl of sails,

Unfolding clouds to embrace the sky;

Restless shadows, too eager by far,

Scatter and scamper in the wake

Of daybreak’s reprimanding touch,

In the haven of her sunny rays.

Those remnants of a night too long,

Spent dreaming of troubled thoughts;

Those leftover tears or aching hearts

That were never swept away or caught,

And the memory never turned fantasy

That haunts every dream and sleep,

They all will crumble to ash and dust,

Leaving only sweet things for you to


Sunrise | By Bryn Poliwczynski

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