Dawn's Brush Paints the Sky
Beneath windswept limbs of an ancient tree
I quietly sit as Dawn's brush paints the sky.
My thoughts turn in this sunrise morning
to blades of grass around me that soon will dry
after sprinkled with dew when night held sway.
I'm feeling melancholy over days gone by,
recalling sad memories that come to mind...
A love once held deep within my heart
and a romantic song we had called our own.
Here, on the ridge where the world is hushed,
I'm in no rush to leave my dreams behind
while remembering a time when life was kind.
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