Twilights Dawn
Spirits gather at twilight’s dawn,
to breathe in visions that are drawn,
on autumn shores where winter stays,
by foggy air that casts its haze.
Reflections mirror in the dew,
on frosty branches pale and blue,
as rolling waters faintly hum,
with weeping elders that succumb.
A soothing sigh shine’s from above,
enticing coo from morning dove,
that ripples gently on the pond,
embracing praises of its bond.
Ice winds coat the bramble weeds,
and all that hide among the reeds,
along the rivers painted streams,
that tuck away into my dreams.
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