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Morning Time

Morning time,
Shrouded in bewitching eerie silence
And supernatural mist and dews,
The world still asleep,
Awaking from
With the break of day, break of light
And the sun rays glistening, flashing over
And photographing.

The white lilies into the ponds

Splashed with dew drops
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Saturday, August 23, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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