Time for more very-eary morning poetry...
Some more of my poetry I found lying around...
~Sunrise~
I am that flower
who, at night
closes her petals
showing only gray shell.
Closed,
she ignores
the whispers of
Night's tribe:
deadly frost
(hunting her core to cold oblivion),
bitter hail
(seeking to break her body)
spawn of Evening's chill,
mocking,
sarcastic,
scornful.
The tumult of their words
seeks to drown the spirit of her song.
She stands stiffly, proud
(to their frustration)
throughout the fearful dark.
Yet when the Sun rises -
an explosion of light and hope!
Kind fingers of warmth
banish the Night, call her out.
She opens, laughing,
showing her true colors -
gold, red,
vibrant and glowing!
She reaches toward the Sun
singing, joyful,
forgetting the chill
of Night's bitter indifference.
~Sunrise~
I am that flower
who, at night
closes her petals
showing only gray shell.
Closed,
she ignores
the whispers of
Night's tribe:
deadly frost
(hunting her core to cold oblivion),
bitter hail
(seeking to break her body)
spawn of Evening's chill,
mocking,
sarcastic,
scornful.
The tumult of their words
seeks to drown the spirit of her song.
She stands stiffly, proud
(to their frustration)
throughout the fearful dark.
Yet when the Sun rises -
an explosion of light and hope!
Kind fingers of warmth
banish the Night, call her out.
She opens, laughing,
showing her true colors -
gold, red,
vibrant and glowing!
She reaches toward the Sun
singing, joyful,
forgetting the chill
of Night's bitter indifference.