indicative of the fading fog that comes.
The foolishness to come…
when not holding on to dawn from dawn.
The infinite longing for those raising a
white flag to flowers yet spawned.
Fortuitous are those joyful for the in between
of lines drawn.
What power there is in just more day for sake of love.
Hanging on to the predicament and romance of a mourning dove.
Rebirth greeting each new day.
Purity found in nowhere…nearing season’s fray.