Poetry Clips – Blush (The Tendrils Of A Dream)


The moon is still hanging

On the last threads

Of the fleeing night

There is a sorrowful cry

From a distant bird

Slowing spiralling

Into the heavens

A rosy blush paints the sky

Darkness slips away

Bleeding into the horizon

Like the tendrils

Of a dream

© Ann Bagnall

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