Waiting for True Day

She sits on the grass

It is cold and wet

As the darkness

Of the morning

And moonless

Early morning

Rise around her



She sleeps

Eyes closed

With soft skin

Mouth open

Tasting the ice air


As the air

Slowly thaws

Red begins to rise

In the lightening sky

Water drops

On the soft skin

And her

Dark eyes



In front

The sky

Is a badly mixed drink

Slopping red there

Pink here

And blue everywhere


She blinks


She is disoriented

Then she gazes

Around her

At the landscape

Black backed by color


She sits down

Head spinning

And leans back


For the sun

To rise

And the sky

To clear out

To true day

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