In the morning
while the sun refuses to wake
and the fingernails of the sky
glow maroon
I find myself hanging
in a veil of wet silence
this moment is fragile
like the first ice
on a woodland pond
the shrill call of a morning
bird bouncing off the glassy pane
carrying excitement in its song
this day will be bright
while the sun refuses to wake
and the fingernails of the sky
glow maroon
I find myself hanging
in a veil of wet silence
this moment is fragile
like the first ice
on a woodland pond
the shrill call of a morning
bird bouncing off the glassy pane
carrying excitement in its song
this day will be bright
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