In the gentle dark

This is my attempt at Mick Talbot’s Epanalepsis form of poetry.

 

In the gentle dark, squirm deep, dark thoughts,

To wake primal fears, that die when we wake,

And the rose-tinged dawn, light caught in the rose,

Holds us in its hands, as cupped petal the light holds,

To touch me with softness, a bird-feather touch.