Sunday, November 16, 2014

The light of dawn grows pink.
Her tender rays will melt the frost.
And herbs that nature loves the most,
Become an opium drink.

 The robin perched on utmost height,
Endured the midnight chill,
But with a renewed strength of will,
Drinks all, then takes to flight.

My heart is utmost dark and frost-
Your sympathy, the light.
I drink you to dispel the night-
An antidote I like the most.

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