When morning comes
Soft stars stitch the sleeping sky.
Cold clouds carry the last light away.
Night names the dim, dark road.
Wild winds wake the slow, silver stream.
Bright birds, soft songs rise.
Small seeds stir; green grasses grow.
Warm winds whisper; brave buds bloom
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
