Sweet Like The Morning (From, Dried Flowers) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Sweet like the morning that comes to dawn,
All is of torn or flickering passion;
Each way is the fullest before its bygone,
With aspects of heart and all its conduction.

Tender of fire you pour into the wind,
Life is like the leaves that wither and die;
Fruits of the trees the beautiful tamarind,
All what will blossom before the blue sky.

The earth with its songs sweet in the morning,
Conquering dark with its newly true shine;
Giving taking feeling and then yearning,
All here around that with love you combine.

Everything's a dream that soon goes away,
For dark speckles are in every new ray.