Morning's Gift Poem by Mark Crane

I adore the sweet fragrants, of freshly fallen rain
Mother natures remedy for cleansing away the pain

The bright sun piercing through the blackend cloud
Resembling hope, burning down the vile shroud

A brisk, dewy morning gives birth to a new day, spawning happiness
Unveiling beauty's true essence, comfortably wrapped within her warm finesse

O let us dance amid the wild orchids, my love, my sacred one
Bathe me in your alluring glow, hopelessly held captive by your passion

For the morrow may bring with it my death! Take my soul as this morning's gift
Your love, is the air this soul breaths, lost without it, meandering adrift