When I recall the quiet noise of morn
The days I pine, the darker eyes that loom
Ask less my mind, for when I in a gloom
It is the sky I seek to slow forlorn
The memory a haunt of sorrow found,
As lives we sow are asked to further go.
Beyond the real of the love we know
Is sunlight sure to welcome saner ground.
In between slats of home a golden air
Bemuse fear of letting go, losing her
For it is beautiful the morning stir
Of golden leaves – descend summer’s ware.
So when in the morning sun I wake alone
Her elegance in brilliant sky be shown.