Waking

Sleep brings dark oblivion
The curtain falls on cares too hard to bear.
But morning always comes too soon
scattering the shadows in the east,
and ripples break the still night pools
with glittering spears of unwelcome light.
Though the pain returns,
The dull ache in the heart,
The blush of pink deepens on the rose
And dew hangs trembling on the leaf.
The sun will rise behind the bank of cloud
And the blackbird’s song is just as sweet.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

15 thoughts on “Waking”

      1. There’d be something wrong if life wasn’t complicated Jane. We’d spend the rest of it waiting for the other boot to drop.
        🙂

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