The morning slumbers

Dew gently dripping down

From the last of the fading stars

Like sparkling teardrops

That shiver on the stones below

A breeze rushes past me

I am caught between earth and sky

The dream of you won’t leave me

And the night calls me still

© Ann Bagnall

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.