The nightly stars one by one bowed away,
Far across the landscape darkness bound,
The spring mist with hollow dreams,
The wind in haste joined them in dance,
The lame morning somewhere in east yawned.
The old moon hid under the blanket of light,
Lazy birds from branch to branch of a flowerless tree hopped,
No songs, just screeches of nesting nightly bugs,
Bats with stomach full upside down lay and flapped their wings,
The blank journal page in light cold breeze turned.
The tired eyes in waiting for an unseen daydream drooped,
None seen as all ended like the journal page by breeze turned,
As everyday felt like yesterday,
And yesterday to tomorrow cloned.
Yet another spring morn between yesterday and tomorrow lost.
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