Mourn
I mourn the morningwith all its pink
dipped ink pictures
and choristers
chiming the hour
Etch me a sketch
of trees black
in the breeze
as branches
snap back
and lack of sleep
seeps into pools
Bring back the night
Its dark then
like shadows
How I mourn
the morning
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2010-04-22 at 20:13
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