dancing on the thorns
swirling past the empty haze
sifting through this ancient maze
and the wonders of this warm and chilly morn
brighter are the things of light
fading are the joys of flight
die do the colors of the night
reborn, are they, with the setting of the sun
~
the moonlit night is done
no more bathing in the sky
or star-showered portraits in which we lie
together, till morning is nigh
the light calls to our souls and so we flee
and wait for night to set us free
