Dawn breaks, the dream aches
To be lost, to be set free
In my minds eye, the picture Resides
Spotted subtle hues
The disgruntled “I know yous”
The fevered “Thank you’s”
And all the things which will never come through
Though the smoke screen is removed
I don’t see anything new
Primrose landscape
Butterflies trying to escape
Azaleas standing shyly against the air
Drooping eyelids
A dilapidated stare
Fresh scented air
With warm decanted air
Green boughs
Plaited ploughs
