Tides of gray wax in the purple blackness of the night,
O sun, where art thou in this gloom?
A moment of hush, as the denizens wait for the light,
Anticipation lies thick in this room.

Slips the dreams into their cocoon,
To come again, or perhaps not again.
These manic plays end so soon.
No final act is played nor seen.

The hush breaks now, a bird in song
Serenades the coming dawn.
A zephyr carries the melody along,
To stifle my awakening yawn.

I rise, I turn, feet settling on the floor.
And enter the day through it’s opening door.

© 2014 D. Edward Croy

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