Poetry Clips – Blush (The Throne Room Of The Dawn)


The fleeing night

Kisses the cheek

Of morning

A soft blush

Gently warms

Sleeping roses

Day rises

Cool as silk

Trails a hand

Across the shivering back

Of the night

The new day trembles

Prostrate and humbled

In the throne room

Of the dawn

© Ann Bagnall

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