The Wee Small Hours Poem by Edwina Reizer
The Wee Small Hours
The wee small hours of the dawn
take their toll on me
It's when my thoughts start to form
and turn into potpourri.
They accumulate before sunrise
and I jot them on a pad.
And I think back on the wee small hours,
some happy and some sad.
But poets know that every thought
has a purpose for the soul.
And the wee small hours of the dawn
are the ones where I feel whole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 12:18:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
