Between The Going Hours Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Between The Going Hours



Between the going hours
Of everything we are
What gets across empowers
The near and the very afar

Light that flows to dim
To enter the new morning
That looks like dreamy whim
In closeness and forewarning

As the moment goes turning
On shadows of many grays
Beneath the stretching churning
That into the beginning plays

When sun rise its arches flowers

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