One Cold Morning

Another day passes,

Dawn breaks onto a new,

Cold air and frost,

Make dull things glitter,

Under a fading moonlight.

Chilled to the bone,

I walk over crisp leaves

and fallen branches.

At such a quiet time of day

there is still beauty left in this world.

Only distant sounds of larks,

or a whispering wind,

desperate to share its secrets

of the long night.

I solemnly drift,

And wish I could be taken away

by the breeze,

and know what it was like to be at peace

with the world.

I walk this path alone,

only trees and sparks of sunlight

as my company.

If only for a moment,

all my thoughts and troubles,

melt away.

For that moment,

I am at peace with myself.

 

 

Reviews

[Andrew Tyler McCown]

You may be at peace with yourself but each line is a stab in your readers heart. I am about to bleed out and need you to come over and resuscitate me. Trash this poem. "Chilled to the bone" is a cliche that you have added nothing to and it adds nothing to the poem. "make dull things glitter" the sound is off. The poetic flow you write so well must still be inside sipping hot chocolate while you're wandering outside in the cold.