Trembling at dawn, a lonely one to be precise.
When all grass shot brown, thin sheets of ice.
So delicately placed at my grimacing brow, like the asthmatic child gasping for air. I fight for her attention, yet again she's not there.
There would ne'er be a you and I, so my fears fall unsung and ripening to our youth.
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Superb Poem........After all the waking discomfort has fallen, grass still grows beneath my silent reckoning.