The Invisible Dawn

January 12, 2009
By Michael Minor, Rapid City, SD

I came here to hear the dawn
Her soft breath lapping against the shore
As the gentle blush grows on her dark horizon
The soft song of the Mourning Dove is my only clue
Though the sights and sounds are so familiar
Half of it has been lost to imagination
A loving breeze caresses my cheek
As the sun finally reveals her warmth
I throw aside my walking stick
My face upturned to her warm embrace
But before I can step off of my cliff
A firm hand arrests my shoulder
With a sigh I take back my staff
And walk back into the darkness
I came here to hear the dawn
For I can no longer see her

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