DAYBREAK
It stands ajar, the old wood door,
where red brown rivulets that flow
from rusty nails and lock and hinges
leave their stains on sun bleached wood.
And there stands she in silhouette
and haloed by the candlelight,
the weavings of her twisted locks,
and scarf, and flowing silken gown.
The fallow tracts emerging now
as night time lifts its darkest veil.
Her eyes look out with vacant stare
abstracted in her world of dreams.
Tempered by the merging day
the view commanded now reveals
each blade and twig furred white with frost
as warm-hued shadows stretch and weave.
And cast there by the rising sun
the early rays which light the sky
bring slow divide from troubled dreams
which fade and melt with warmth of day.
-
Author:
Michael Edwards (
Offline) - Published: January 7th, 2017 02:21
- Comment from author about the poem: Another plus an acrylic abstract of mine
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
Offline)
Comments8
Thanks for your kind words Kathy. I see I've used the word 'weave' twice - must do something about that.
Morning is my favorite time, especially in late summer! Beautiful work and lovely colors in your picture.
That's about when I read this, this morning. wonderful abstract. Thanks for sharing Michael.
Great write and great picture
Cheers WBL, Willy and Tony
Really nice piece about the morning and beautiful abstract to go with it. Excellent!--Christina
Bless you Christina.
Awesome.
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