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By Duke Date: 2002 Mar 01 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.01.18.26.2479]] |
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The quiet of morn drapes heavy 'round her. Utter silence, unnatural, yet expected, again. Like years of spent dreams before. Roused, a little, With coffee half black and half cold, Some sugar? Why now? What good would it do? A roll? Make it Danish, eggish or don't. Does she really care? She really won't. Darkness to daybreak, Dawn slowly ever growing, Staking a claim of renewal. A brightening of spirit and uplifting of soul. Hope for us and to all a better bright day. But her spent dreams are exactly that, Spent and unforgiving. Personal. Singularly significant. Unforgetful beacons Mind's eye seen every hour. Marking the solitude of life As always she had known. Once and again. Another yesterday event. And alas... Tomorrow once more. |