At the mornings Dawn
I called you to mind
Turned from the soft
And downy warm
To taste the sweetness
Of your smile
Surprising me
With coming harm
A chill quiver
That all hope was gone
The real shape
A shadow cross the sun.
A sign of pain
And sorrow yet to come.
I pray “Oh Lord make haste!”
Lest like spilt water
I am run to waste.
JL 18 Oct 2011
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