Morning Night

The morning night,
A red horizon
Past the prime,
Into the dark.

Always toward
A fiery breaking,
Back into
My longing heart.

Across the land,
Across the oceans,
Across the flat,
Green mountains, sea.

All flying past,
These words of longing,
Intertwined
With dreams to be.

Breaking between
Two hearts, just hours,
As fleeting as
A sunrise beam.

Or looking at
A full moon rising,
Fleeting as
The morning steam.

So wait for me,
Down past the morning,
I'll see you when,
You see the night.

I'll wait for you,
Down past the darkness,
And greet you with,
The morning light.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (1)

Sandra this is excellent, it's talking.... Allan Saywell likes it so it is good. But we have to stop praising him too much or he will write very small ones in the future e.g. I'm dragging but still moving the ground ought to be kissed, with foreign eyes approving, I don't know what I missed. If all this praise for his intellectual prowess is added to by pointing out various physiological details and anatomical peculiarities, it will change any man. Like your poem. H