Reaching for Dawn
Reaching for Dawn
The shades of dawn
falling like colorful feathers
plucked from the sky.
Sorrow, a distant friend with
sodden shoulder and sturdy
pose, no longer needed.
In hand, a timetable of
misbegotten deeds, to be
dispersed to the four winds.
The song was sung long ago.
The echo still remains, of
voices faint and far off.
I do not know the words.
Climbing the mountain,
altitude unknown, oxygen
thin as a noon shadow.
The pinnacle appears.
Breathing in the clouds,
focus begins to dim.
Past fading into the future, as
The dawn now turns into pure gold.
The summit is within reach.