THE SHADOWS OF THE MORNING LIGHT
Copyright 2012 Gordon Kuhn
Poet in the Rain Productions
Sure t’is the morning of regrets
When memory doth not forget neglects,
And stabs the soul with a cutting stone,
And one finds they are all alone
Sure t’is a fine tormenting day
When memories come that should not stay
And pain fills the gutters deep
And the mind needs rest but canna sleep.
Sure t’is a hollow empty place that lingers in my life
And all about and there within I find a potent strife
That canna leave the peace alone
And hangs and falls as a heavy stone.
Sure t’is a haunted place I farewell go
And live as if the life were planned to be so
And yet the morning comes without delight
And I see my mirrored face anew,
in the shadows of the morning light.
May 5, 2012