Before morning...

View On Black

 

A breath, of fresh air dusts

the fragility of the one

day wonder; Petals, as

a baby's whisper, rustling

the proud head, of "Morning

Glory", clawing her way,

reaching for the sun, to

drink it's nectar of life;

Slender and statuesque,

with a carpet of soft

velvet leaves, hugging her stem,

as if supporting, if just

for the day; Sunset approaches,

as she hides her face,

never to see the morrow.

 

Cutipie

Done