Sun-dappled shadows of trees
Paint my eastern window-blinds.
They sway and ripple
In light summer breeze.
My room is dark, elsewhere,
The southern window boring--
No tree-limned patterns there.
As hours pass, light will burgeon,
Fade with closing day.
After nightfall always comes
Sunrise.
Author notes
Post nebula, phoebus. My boss told me that once when I was having a very rough time at work, and it's true.
A contest entry
- just enter. by Trinsa.
420 points, ended June 7, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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