A Reaching After Dawn

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
From the Booksie Circle, with thanks to my friends who inspire me.

Submitted: December 01, 2011

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Submitted: December 01, 2011

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His face was a study of sorrow,
Her's the light by which it was rendered,
His was the fight that he could not win,
Her's was the enemy to whom he surrendered;


His was the soul of sacred truth,
Her's the bold-faced lie of youth,
His was the failing of the common man,
Her's was the fire of a heated brand,


He tried to catch a star
Within his trembling grip,
But beholding the fury in her heart,
His hold began to slip;


He was not meant to hold her back,
To drag her down to the ground,
For he was onyl a man, alas,
And she a vision of light and sound--


His is the sound of rain on pavement,
And her's the fluttering of wings,
His is the grief of a dream now lost,
A vision for which his heart did sing.

 


© Copyright 2017 Thomas Black. All rights reserved.

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