hush the formal flowers of dawn

they swing so sweetly

against the grain

wiping the trails of starlight

from the oaken hewn sky of time

the simple blunder of time

creating the rocky waves

laden with doubt

and shivering, crying for warmth.

oh sands of sadness

wash away my pain

my counterbalance widow begs, screaming

blue-struck, she falters


her hands lift gently from the sharp rocky shore

blood marked and cut

to bring notice to her wounds

she lifts her eyes and gazes upwards

expectant, surprised, in wonder

and alive

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