How could they? Those golden fingers prying through the dark nights
Fresh dawn dew tingling my reddened nose
Loss is still ringing in my ears, deaf toward a new morning
Bittersweet thoughts still living on my tongue, I'm not ready for coffee
I'm not ready for the warm touch of morning, when still in the clutches of mourning.
About the Creator
T. Licht
I have a love for words and a love to share them.
Enjoy! and thank you for taking the time to read this and maybe if you want subscribe and buy my new poetry book Whispers at Twilight
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