I close my eyes, I see his face
Mind’s eye designs our warm embrace
Afraid the Dream ends when I wake
I pray Night’s tender sleep won’t break
But not too far along the way
Night nears His end, Dawn starts Her day
Her rays emerge, beams paint the walls
I cannot slumber through Her calls
“Awake”, She cries, then, “Sleep no more!”
As colors wash across the door
Her brush strokes long, timing precise
Cutting in her pure device
Amber, yellow, shades of blue
She then splashed in a different hue
And as I peered at Her creation
(I dare to note this revelation)
I find that Night had given Dawn
A picture just before He’d gone
The Dream I thought was only Night’s
Was Dawn’s to give at morning light
With care and flair she framed her prize
And there, before my very eyes,
Was not a Dream, but Real and True
I found that Dawn had painted you
Cathleen Griffeth 2005
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