Night
The night has come
And gone away is our sun
The time of making hay is no more
We sleep waiting for tomorrow morn
But what if we don't wake to see the sun
Will our night praise the morn
Or the time the sun did come
Or cry,wail and moan
And beg father nature
To give us a chance to see another morn.
Copyright © Cynthia Williams | Year Posted 2012
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