Treasure Island

Christopher Withers


Days Sound Calm


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.

Submitted: Monday, October 15, 2007
Edited: Saturday, April 16, 2011
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