Tuesday, December 9

Sunrise

 SUNRISE
Legends told in rising suns hear nightingales cry in the dawn;
The backbones of surrounding hills release themselves in shuddering yawns.

Blood of ages sear the sky as sweeping sand dunes glitter gold;
Eyes of strangers soak up light and reflect yearnings young and old.

In the distance, mountains merge with hazes gray and frosted stone;
There is no mem’ry in any age of stealing the story for one’s own.
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