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Rated: E · Poetry · None · #1742652
Another short poem, it is a few years old
The world's not up yet,
And through the pouring rain we see,
The dying flame of the bright light.
No one knew,
Not even the darkest gloom,
The forever lasting is never lasting.
It dies, withers, slowly, in the hands of mother earth,
Morning never comes,
Not until the day I die.
© Copyright 2011 Kristine (neptunengel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1742652-Morning-Everlasting