Jun 28 2010
Light-blue pushes through the blackness of the night, not a soul walks the street.
Buildings appear from the shadows, silhouetted by the grey
Remains from the night before.
The fountain still sleeps, flat as a mirror, crystal clear.
Slowly the day is born and night bows in the wake of its own death.
Soon the silence will be shattered and each building begins to change.
One, now two cars start rolling by.
The street lamps fold up in the threat from the morning
Sun and the flash of their souls hide for one more day.
A cycle begins and ends and “morning” is the prince of new life.
My eyes are heavy; yet dart to capture this moment of sacrifice and acceptance.
My body seems to give in like the night to the weariness, though I am
Thrilled by this beautiful light.
And someone, somewhere is waiting for me, in a little town not far from here.
Where my bed is empty but filled with her.
And for me there is nothing that can compare to her beauty.
Morning is just the start of each new day,
But it is with her, that my life begins.