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MORNINGCome stand on the brink of morning with me Smell the fruitful essence of dawn Branches weep droplets of shiny dew The air is so calm and warm Come stand on the brink of morning with me See dovetails skim overhead The river is still, it makes not a sound A scurry of fox have just fled Come stand on the brink of morning with me Hear distant church bells, joyous they peal Blue skies welcome the day Soft cotton clouds come out to play My senses recline in this colourful meal Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem |
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