The quiet, faint — peaceful — time of daybreak, when the
Mourning Doves begin their melancholy tune and
When the heavy haze of the twilight lifts
From the vibrant dew-palled grass,
Is when the frail city of Winona begins to
Wake. The still, obscure waters of
It’s synthetic lakes spur with the gentle breath of wind,
Swelling gracefully — rhythmically.
With the rise of the sun, It’s masses leave the
Comforts of their simple homes, traveling out into
Their individualized worlds of delusionment.
In the mute, frozen time of the dawning,
When the Mourning Doves begin their melancholy tune,
Who lingers to listen?
About the Creator
Eyn Ione
Hello, my name is Eyn and I love to read and write in my free time! I play many instruments and am an artist as well, though writing is my passion. I write shorts, poems, and am even working on a novel!
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