The Morning Calls Again

And so the day comes
Around again it comes
Back again it comes
With no regard for consequence
and no care for timing
The leaves begin to fall
Slowly through the air
Our heads and hearts are shattered
The day it does not care.

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Mornings

There is a newness in each morn
However faint and hard to feel
That takes away a little scorn
And makes the good a little real.

There is a light in blazing sun
That, though it burns the skin so hot,
Lights the way on our long road
And shows us what we never thought.

Let the morning filled with dew
Or dry like bones among the sands
Lift our hearts a little too
And lead us now to happy lands.