The light of the morning

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The light of the morning wakened me

And the song of the blackbird in the tree.

I close my eyes to the mocking beams

My ears to the song sung not for me.

I cannot bear the sweetness of the day

That fills with light the empty space

So full of passion until you left

Saying this could never be your place.

The morning breaks on broken dreams

And scattered fragments sharp as any thorn

For you have gone without a backward glance

The love I seeded in your heart stillborn.

You never heard the blackbird’s morning song

And never felt the flutter of my heart.

You never felt it sink into your own

Nor its grieving when you tore them both apart.

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.

4 thoughts on “The light of the morning”

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