Giselle Braeuel Poems

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Sparks In The Night

I am not young anymore, my body tells me so.
As the sun comes up it pinches me in many places.
And at the end of the day, as I wait for sleep,
fingers of the night prod into my brain.


As they come to my mind
I pick them up for inspection
to view them one by one
like coloured chards of glass.

What I Wish For

Sleep undisturbed as death at night
Books, not too deep, not too light
My house, not a palace but cozy it be
Nice and comfortable, no luxury

Greeting Dawn

Slowly slips the night away
Open window's gentle breeze
And the sound of the ocean
They beckon me: