The Approaching Dawn

You live beneath a setting sun;
each day brings
a forthcoming end.
Retreating sun beams
dance 'cross your sky
while warped illusions
paint your name.

The big picture has slipped
from your miniature frame;
shattered glass
lends an imagined gloss.
Smeared images
have taken on a life of their own,
though you gaze boldly,
denying the loss.

Seasons pass
and you remain,
ignoring my footprints
in the dust that falls,
your eyes fixed upon
a receding horizon
but mine gaze toward
an imminent dawn.

by Gina Marie Moody

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