Morning

By lupus tenebrae

You linger like a fresh-faced
riddle in the midst of a weary mind,

like an ember, bearing promise
of its unkempt flame, reborn,

like the vestige of a shadow
'fore the slow, encroaching night:

like the madness of you're waking
life before it's lost to lucid schemes.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2015 lupus tenebrae
Published on Monday, January 19, 2015.     Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Just some early morning musings from a sleep deprived poet.
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