How Badly Slept a Weary World
How badly slept a
weary world,
at nature's
routine
behest, churned.
A certain
chilling quiet
was
around, at
night to take its
toll.
For 'twas but a
sleeping
world,
asleep with all
but 'the fairly
odd': the
'mischief-laden'
creepy
ones, to
eerie lyrics
sworn.
Now leaps out of
the dark, a blissful
morn, afore
cocooned in a
twilit urn.
Thanks to the
hands
of dawn so
luminous,
apart the veil is
torn.
Copyright © Victor Nwabeke | Year Posted 2013
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