... together we rise again at dawn.
Dr Abe V Rotor
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQ7w07peyqTch8jRmjq0G6qJuxxOLSqa56fJJpV8OfZS2h3MbrhOEvZ_Tr4tUD4PTaZMJKmKKhPG33rzTgo3w5I4oozxLK-IoBR1Zz0uFRHBusxcevjsPv4s36z11ckQzUV1hhpe6DAjp/s400/Copy+of+IMG_7589.JPG)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OQNYQ2qVXXQYE6uZQLrxfe5c8J7joVF3tyYrlbD_vrqOS1Z7N8R0vQ0zkI2Xyyhv7NV1zzJ4nXsE0hEf86CF6u3XNxH_T66CfRSoOuT55H_nOxNb_Ta4PMaK-z8Hp3AMet288R4wR8dk/s400/IMG_7589.JPG)
Death of Cumulus
Meet me early in the morning;
grow with me as the sun rises
reaching its zenith as I reach mine;
rest with me as the sun goes down,
glowing with the reddening sky,
and the passing of years - and mine.
But you are a young Sybil at dawn,
pure, rising, but into feathers die.
Would I ask Apollo to curtain the sun,
that you die on some parched land,
on dry river beds and empty lakes?
Then together we rise again at dawn. ~
Dr Abe V Rotor
Meet me early in the morning;
grow with me as the sun rises
reaching its zenith as I reach mine;
rest with me as the sun goes down,
glowing with the reddening sky,
and the passing of years - and mine.
But you are a young Sybil at dawn,
pure, rising, but into feathers die.
Would I ask Apollo to curtain the sun,
that you die on some parched land,
on dry river beds and empty lakes?
Then together we rise again at dawn. ~
1 comment:
The photos are beautiful as well as the poem. Makes me remind of simple things
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