The Wee Small Hours - Poem by Edwina Reizer
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.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You