New Days Dawning
The sun approaches day with a tentative countenance,
unsure its opportunity to pervade the sky,
as winter’s growl, crisp and chilling to the touch,
nudges the pale sun’s will to imply.
That this season is a grey rendering
of vibrant echoed past still in memory,
yet frost completes the morning task,
as mist descends in soft white pedigree.
As sun recedes in disappointment,
its momentary flush but a figment of summer’s fancy,
and clouds move in to quash its rebel soul,
as fading day turns to bleak and motionless atrophy.
Where did morning go, its brief encounter a total lie,
and now the time has removed itself from mind,
to revel in the dark and brooding sky,
and leave me wanting, bereft of warmth of any kind.
My woe is deep and abiding,
my hope so dashed and wanting,
in this the winter solstice, my fleeting demarcation line,
to mark the beginning of the long climb back to warmer dreams,
to hope-filled schemes and new days dawning.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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