The poem I wish to write
Has fluttered a thought ember
towards the sun departing
from the edge of my window,
I, gazing at it with wistful recall
till all colors blanketing the sprawling earth
have paled to shadows.
No need to be alarmed
for eventually, the sun will rise in your eyes.
And it will speak of a morning
more physical than wishful thinking,
more eloquent than lost verses
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