(taken from my gift collection)
I know how sometimes she seeks out the Sunrise,
It does show itself to the world every morning, and then disappears when it has lighted up the whole world.
Once, a long time ago,
She sat watching the silent tide wash ashore.
Every time it rushed towards the waiting sands, it brought forth pretty bubbles,
To decorate the hems of those sands.
She waited for Sunrise,
It did rise to rake in her tide,
Her tide of happiness,
Amidst the chaos of the ravages on her mind, body and soul.
She walks away into the mist,
Maybe waking God or even an angel in her midst,”Why is the Sunrise not in my heart? For my weary soul is heavy with assault!”
The Sunrise remains as her salvation,
The colors are loaned to color her world,
She waits to be free like the tides of the sea.
She walks away, with hope resurrected.
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