K. Loye... Writing My Thoughts Till My Pencil Thinks

The Tempered Glass of Dawn
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Awake,
To the rising sun of my love
Filtering through
The darkest window,
Spliting the night's
Loneliness.

Open,
Your curtains to a new future
Pull back your shades
To see dreams outside,
As birds sing hopeful
Melodies

Embrace,
The rays shining past horizons
Of distant time
Staining the glass,
Into forms of
Forever.

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Poetry Is An Artform, But Instead Of Paints And Brushes, We Use Words To Paint Pictures In Your Hearts