Wednesday, August 17, 2022

209/365 - Own

 


The early morning streets
are wrapped in
a whisper hushed blanket 
of night shaped morning
I am the ghost of a shadow
slicing through the black pavement river
While faceless lights
hover across it's surface
like fireflies on a millpond
The pre-dawn world
is mine alone
The roads, and sidewalks
and trees, and homes
From rivers to streams
to the bridge on the Bay
I chase the ruby red glow
catching up in time to see
the sun that rises to meet the day
The world begins anew
I whisper
as I turn my handlebars
and pedal away

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