The Blue Eyes of Morning

and the blue eyes of morning blink

closing shut

upon the still desolation

of harsh winter storms

frozen shut

tears flowing

freezing

crystal streams streaking

diamonds

upon the pale face of sorrow

oh

how the unpigmented landscape shrieks

as the warmth of spring entreats

allowing

once more

the rivers to run unimpeded

and the garrish tint of rose

to return to its anemic cheeks

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