Saturday, 12 January 2013

Sunday Morning 13 January 2013

Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a morning heaven
Lengths down road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms out rushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam
The living throb in me
Life glistens on the river happy
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
Yeah, i felt your presence!

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