Morning

You say you will be gone by the time,
the sun sets, the light dims, the world sleeps.
The sun says you will be too, but why?
When you go, the whole world weeps,
and so do I. Because you hide, and I never,
accustom my eyes to see you ever.
Fighting my way to seek refuge in you,
but you don’t open your arms, in the misty light,
of your slender body, of your stone-studded bright,
deeply and enchantingly, you appear,
beautiful in contrast to the morose night.
Feet in stilettos, at the door of cafes,
they while away in you, revel in blissful gossip,
But when the evening dulls the energy,
words of farewell are on the tender lip.
Between the changing seasons you,
witness the familiar scene time and again,
You watch the snow, you watch the rain,
The world waking up behind the window-pane.

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