In hues of crimson
Shaded with flecks of azure
Morning sun rises
Slipping beyond midnight's blue
Into an indigo sky
Beneath painted skies I sit, awed by the breaking dawn, by the creativity of nature, the seamless beauty displayed on this new canvas, this new day. I collect them all, tucking each into my soul, cradling each within my heart, etching each to memory. I have accepted that my vision is whispering away but if this is what must be, I will take with me every morning that I can before I am left with nothing but shadows.
Lovely writing, Myrna. I hope you are recording each poem and each word of introduction or explanation so when you hear them (far in the future, I hope) in your own voice and inflections, they will revive each wonderful memory and you will see them within!
This poem is especially poignant and true for you, because the beauty of sunrise and sunsets are in such vivid colors that only your mind can remember them as your vision grows darkly into the perpetual night.
Such a beautiful grouping of words about a subject that is sad to the nth, Myra. I do so hope the shadows will be more defined than you might think they will be.
Welcome!
The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
Beautif
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Connie
Bless the morning of the skies. Beautiful write to seer the
colours evermore.
Lady Mary Ann
Ron
budd
stan
Cheers moi spp,
Dan
George