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The silence that shrouds him every night is cold
Day's very own winter is as serene as the season itself.
It's cold;
Something so very vital, absent
Like the warmth of a full summer sun
Yearned for in barren months.
And here he lies mute and far from the sun kissed dawn,
Far from his symphony,
So far from a promised summer.
Lids fall over a searching gaze,
A lie so vital unwinds
But still the silence
Is cold.
A man lies alone dreaming of the dawn that he longs for.
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Mothhawk Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
I was thinking of a prisoner lying in this cell built into a hill, and it's a chilly winter morning. Frost covers the ground, as well as a light snowfall. The sky is ever lightening in the approaching dawn, and he lies on the bed, thinking about how he has nothing, waiting for the weak winter light, knowing he will die here.

I visualize most things I read. (It makes school so much more fun...)
ambientradiation Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
^_^ How vivid. Maybe I need to look over this poem and try tuning up my metaphors though. =( Such a sorrowful interpretation.
InTheStarryNightSky Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2011
Interesting. This reminds me of some of my own dreams. A lovely job.
ambientradiation Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for your feedback. ^_^
InTheStarryNightSky Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2011
You're very welcome. I know how much comments can mean to artists.
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