Wednesday, November 24, 2010


The morning sky gently painted

Alive with golden fire
by no human hand

Dawn's rosy fingers
piercing through the
snowy clouds, like a
subtle winter breeze

On the other side of the hill
the less fortunate live in the
gloomy murk of black-winged Night's last embrace

Only a few short paces from paradise
The yellow eyes of the dark
look desperately into the
starry eyes of hope
the smallest of differences
ensare the soul
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

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