In the Pink
Morning is a cistern;
its beauty laid out bare
to my naked eye.
Round, golden-amber flame,
gradual is your eager burning
one with significant strength and worth.
Your potent, pinkish explosion
is placed in view, in which,
my eyes are glazed over
what falls before me.
Your blushing tone angles
as it also reflects itself above
the sound of water so perfected,
brimming of detail;
coming in to fully focus
in a moment of friendly favor.
A received silence securely seizing me
with its mighty magnetism and stunning stimulus.
Copyright © Barbara Johnson | Year Posted 2009
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