Wish Of The Morning Poem by Seer Garth

I wish of the Morning and dream of its light...

I imagine my spring flesh would be made of clean lines
And with silvery tears spiralling down from the skies
The motherly air would wash my sinful eyes.

Shivers from above and rumbles from below
Would be tremors from my teeth that would grow.
My soul would breath high
And I would feel the smell
Of the Morning of I.

(My wish is just a wish,
A weak whisper of sweet thought.
Without my teeth I starve tonight,
Dreaming of the dawn I never caught.)