Scribbles
The space on the Internet where I attempt to articulate my feelings. Keyword, attempt.
Wednesday, 5 February 2014
Sunrise
Pink fingers reach across the sky,
As the sun awakes and stretches it's light.
It's just past dawn, the trees still look black,
With the rising star against their backs.
How nice to think a new day's here,
Utterly untainted, what will appear?
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