The D A W N

by Erika Byrne-Ludwig

Scene this morning ... Dawn flirting with the swallows.

Blue petals in the air. Beautiful day ahead.

Every season has its dawn. In autumn it shows its freckles.

Flushed with pink love, it embraces the sky.

When morning begins, it reveals its mauve petticoat.

The cat felt a caress on its shoulder. It was the hand of dawn.

Every morning, it sings its love melody before wilting like a blue rose.

The daisy looks up and turns blue.

The sky is still warm from yesterday. Dawn huddles up near its fireplace.

The wind is black at night. It turns blue and pink in the early hours.

Trees let the silk threads of dawn embroider them.

To please autumn, it ties its golden scarf scented with purple grapes.

Sometimes, it has the colour and perfume of the geisha girl -  the little tree at the window.

A gaze up is a gaze on the ocean and trips on the back of a seagull.

The heavy eyelids of dawn slowly open. Soon, it will put on its pink and blue jewels.

Tender thoughts covered with dew ... One can tell, they're dawn's.

Certain mornings, it displays the red-rose pleats of its hand-made dress, others, the lace of its mauve negligee.

Yesterday, it slipped on its boots and its raincoat - grey with blue glints like its eyes.

The moon's emotions shine through dawn.

A day without dawn ... Can one imagine?