Wayne G. Palmer
An alabaster morning,
Shy eye coquettish o'er treetops tipped gold,
Painting the mind with your peerless panorama,
Flipping your coin high to radiant chance,
As we gaze from paper cages, fawning in the shadows,
Fidgeting old dreams buried deep in our pockets,
Wishing your fate to the face of our chalice,
Watching your palette, our hopes, become blue,
Wistfully yearning, enticed for another...
An alabaster morning...