Morning's Rise by Alealonna
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Description
I woke up early one morning about a week ago and watched the sun rise. As I was waiting for the colors to appear, I opened my bedroom window to let the cold crisp November air brush against my face. I watched my breath as it clouded out the window into the atmosphere. There was so much cloud that morning that I could only see a thin sliver of color, yet I still hoped for more. While I waited, I wrote a poem. I never got a good picture of that sunrise, so I waited until I could find another rise that was good enough for my poem.
Watching colors paint the sky
I think about both you and I
Wonder if we'll ever meet
Or if you'll pass me on the street
Chill air brushes on my face
Knowing my life's not a waste
Accepting what's to be my fate
Hoping I'll find my soul mate
I sit and think on morning's rise
Knowing soon that it will die
As all things must come to an end
And then we wait for it again
There is one more stanza that goes along with this poem, but I cannot post it. It is not to be posted until an event in my future has happened.
I don't have a clue as to when it will happen though, but then again, the future is always changing.
-time is a tree (this life one leaf - e.e. cummings
Comments (9)
blainenorth
Goose bumps... love it.
barryjeffer
A beautiful sunrise and and perfect poem for it... you did well in waiting for the right one. Just as you await that right one to come into your life... they will when the time is right... time means nothing when it is perfection we seek. seth
sathyajeeva
cool
Faemike55
Very beautiful poem and picture! Well done!
PSDuck
The picture and the poem go well together. The poem is incomplete (as designed) and the pic is slightly out of focus, thus incomplete. Are each of us ever complete, or just feel complete for a moment that we savour?
jccj56
Awesome Scene!!
vaggabondd
Short and sweet and I love it. my favorite kind of poems are the ones that tell a whole story in just a few lines, this is very good work my poet friend :)
Demented_She-Penguin
Wonderful poem and picture, as usual.
Iceshark39
It's a wonder just how much can be told in a few lines of a poem. They need not be epic or lyrical, the only ones they need make sense to is that one hand that penned them. Wisely chosen is the time when your final stanza is to be revealed. My hope is that the Fates do not make you wait for long.