An Unfinished Poem

The morning horizon is soft and blithe;

A timid shine appears – an infant dawn

Whose wails awaken us: the now alive

To a world with a moon rambling on.

 

Silver slivers shine like sun between blinds,

And faintly, moonlight beats upon the ground

As we sleep, beleaguered in our minds;

Dreaming of landscapes and forgotten towns.

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