Running At Dawn.
On rising, morning sun does break
apart the grey of clouds to make;
The softest bronze between the cracks,
Painting canvas above roof tops.
//
A single cawing crow does sit,
Atop that roof, beckoning hate.
Tired, I now behold day wake,
When scene already did I take;
//
In sweat so drenched as street I climbed,
Just counting breath, distance in mind;
Running before out came the light,
But this, I say refreshes sight.
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/8eaqxr/no_title/dxy624s?utm_source=reddit-android
*Edited.
Posted Apr 25, 2018, 6:09 PM UTC · edited
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