By J. Lynne Moore

The morrow’s dawn breaks
A horizon laced, saffron…
Gives slumber pause,
And banishes lingering shadows.

The moon, heavy with sleep,
Finds its rest among the stars,
Laced with the dust of dreams,
Now but a memory.

The nightingale bids good day,
To the jolly sparrow;
As she, the worm plucks,
From the dew laced soil.

The morrow has come…
And leaves not a bitter taste.
But brings with it renewal,
Laced with hope replete.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

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