Mornings

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Morning glows with faintest hue,
Mourning goes slowly
With suffering anew,

Morning is another gift I know,
Mourning is heavier than
Drifting snow.

I mourn the loss of love so strong,
And wonder of the morning song,
I wish for things which cannot come,
I mourn for change and still
Feel numb,

Morning is full of all the new,
The hope of something we longed,
To do.

To love, to live, to
Call our own,
I mourn in morning but still,
Alone.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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