Sat, 07/26/2014 - 19:23 -- Jaynali



A once anticipated afternoon

Leads golden spears in hungry melody

We watch with bated eyes a tempered moon

As poisoned land seeks naught but remedy

From far beneath our long retired kin

Comes ever daily and misunderstood

Cold shadow often wrongly seen as sin

And never loved or wanted as it should

Now that the sun is gone from beggars eye

The hour of magnificence is born

Where colors blight from spectrum do defy

And previous shades of our dreams are torn

We look around our little world of gray

And yearn forever for this time of day




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