Dawn

Now that the night of misgivings is past,

Bleeding its dew upon the morning’s cheek,
The blush of dawn upon a ledge is cast,
And hope in tender pink begins to speak.

Now you are gone, the doves of peace alight
Upon the quiet stretches of my heart;
They glide in gentle calm on wings of light,
And coo soft bliss through every weary part.

 

I scan the gleaming shores for your shadow
Unsure if your vestiges linger still
Clinging to the decaying threads of woe
But sunshine floods the scape with new-found will  

 

Yet even dawn cannot erase all woe.

Some wounds remember how to softly glow.

 

Author's Note

Realization.

Reviews

[Sapphus]

Love is pretty till its past. I'm surprised people still do sonnets. Good job with this one.

[John the Baptist]

Often, dawns are beautiful. Sometimes, relationships suck.

[BuzzyB]

I think so too. If I have a beautiful dawn, I need little else. Thank you John.