Remnants of last night, in patches,
rendered heavy to the pitch of black.
An eave, being overhung, catches
a nook that dawn is yet to crack.
.
Fragments in angular spaces,
brutal joints, unfinished and stark,
leave stubborn nocturnal traces,
carved into crevices, deep and dark.
.
Segments, pieces of a mock mosaic,
drained of narrative; story-less,
burdened by a daily habit; hard to break;
draped in the dull garb of dreariness.
.
Break of dawn, a sunrise shattered,
shadows cast are torn and scattered.
© Tim Grace, 6 January 2011
Revised 16 August 2022
About the Creator
Tim Grace
A first impression has a lasting effect - it makes a notable difference. In a subtle way that’s who I am as a poet. A ‘first impression’ looking for the gentle ‘twist’ that draws attention to a novel observation.
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