Poetry

Dawn’s Dream
by Earl Bergland, 1972

Sometimes in the morning
When the dawn is gray-blue,
I lie here dreaming,
A dreaming of you.

A vision resting in gold-laced red.
Tossed tresses cascading a princess head.

My gaze on sleeping lips
Wanders to shoulders bare
Then unto veiled breasts,
The tenderness there.

As the quiet dawn breathes
Its freshness anew
If to be with my love,
Swans, a hidden lake view.

Morning dove moans thru moon mist
Shy lips pretending to miss.
Fingertips whisper from breast to thigh.
Cautious sunrays hush dreams goodbye.

The hope of your body on my arm I know;
The opera, the passion echoing slow.
A lark warning near the stream.
Fragrance fades with my dawn's dream.



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