Dawn’s Child

Okay, so I'm feeling kinda guilty that I've been lazing around and moping all day long. Well not moping exactly, but just slouching about like a lout (when I'm not hogging) and generally feeling yucky. So to up my confidence, I have decided to showcase this profound (note choice of word) poem. Hope you like it!

Dawn’s Child

The jacarandas- they swish aloft,

Their purple plumes a soft fire

Below below the men they stand,

Drowning out their restless ire.

Harking not the peaceful lull,

Sensing not the blooming rush,

They’re all around, yes ‘tis true

Upon us now, the candid blush.

But the men –those infants blind-

Glance about, loitering long,

Another day that drags on and on,

Spewing out the same old song.

Soggy with their wasted dreams,

Shrouding full an easy urge,

Struggling ‘neath the elders’ curse,

Leaving not the winds to purge.

Simple pleasures long discarded

Chasing, chasing after… what?

Ever-flitting eyes of chatty masks

Alive then, but coming to naught.

One entity that converges seldom

With the lassitude of the hackneyed

Instead choosing wild profusion

Drifting ‘long the springtime staid.

That staid surety shining sapphire,

Blinking into the wide-eyed sun,

Intrinsically bright, breathing life,

Suffusing all, segregating none.