preload preload preload preload preload preload
0 Comments | Jun 12, 2017


drzewa-zachod-slonca-pola-mglaMirabelle weeps with the coming of dawn.

She does not know why.

Nor does the dawn.

She knows only that she smiles

upon the rising sun each morning,

and it smiles back,

but with a glow reserved and pleasing,

saving its harsh glare for later,

for those unfortunates crossing open desert

or bearing life’s great burdens.


For now the morning is only Mirabelle and her sun.

Each morning they meet this way,

not because she has anywhere to be so early,

but because there is no one else

in her life who lifts her up like this,

who makes her face glow and imbues her with warmth.

And yes, Mirabelle weeps,

but it is not the weep of sadness.

No, she sheds her tears for the emerging day,

and for the joy of a love once only dreamt of,

but now made real.


They will meet again tomorrow,

and every day that her harbinger appears.

And maybe … maybe she knows

that there is nowhere life can take her

where this morning greeting cannot take place,

no circumstance that can separate them.


Can any person promise such a thing?



Leave a Reply

* Required
** Your Email is never shared