By Barbara Walker-Fox



The last of the stars
Fade away
With the breaking of another day.
The birds,
Chatter endlessly
As they play in the morning light.
The flowers,
Sway softly
In the gentle breeze,
Dancing to music
Each new morning brings.
The sun glistens brightly
Over the sandy beach
Bestowing mystical enchantment.
The two of us free
To express love
And were given time
To give life
A beautiful, wonderful meaning.
The day is nearly gone.
Dusk
Is again creeping to claim the sun.
Night
Falls upon us once more.
Enveloped in silence,
We explore pleasantries
Of the prevailing darkness.
Feelings of hate
Dare not enter
The heavenly paradise we have created.


NOTE: This poem is to centered, okay