Christopher Withers

Days Sound Calm - Poem by Christopher Withers

creeping dawn
breaks the shadow of cold night,
which then bleeds backwards
back into the apex of the sky,
and in this space
between the darkness and the light,
my skin, blue cast
mirrors a line of unreal hue,
short lived, as chased
by suns first rays, until -
only morning hue remains,
and with it:
all the terrors of the night
return to childhood recollect,
a catalogue of untold dreams
burnt away by days sound calm.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 15, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 16, 2011

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