Now In The Morn

Another for the muse.

Now in morn

The wee hour light,

You lay abed

Slumber of night.

I spy you there

Calmy nude,

Your skin aglow

Moonray exude.

Times like these

Make me amuse,

Beholding you

My tender muse.

Reviews

[Danielle Anatomyy]

I think this poem is very delicate. Its words are tender, like Botania said, and they give off a innocent, kind radiance.

[Sam]

And thank you, Danielle.

[Botania]

Reveals tenderness and warm feelings. Lovingly written.

[Sam]

Why thank you, Botania.