She does not come
At dawn’s appointed time,
When skies are pale
And stars begin to fade.
When drops of dew
Wake every sleeping flower,
And songbirds tribute
To the day is made.
She does not come
When noon in all its glory,
Is sometimes dazzled
By the ardent light.
And drowsy mayflies
Settle on the water,
To cool their wings
From vacillating flight.
But once the weary
Day embraces slumber,
The world is bathed
In blue seductive light.
She’ll gently fold her
Eager wings around me,
She comes softly with the night
Becoming The Muse 
She comes softly with the night…………………..
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🌻🌻
~B
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Beautiful
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Thank you for passing through.
~B
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Beautiful
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Thank you
~B
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ayyyy…….es muy hermosoooo!
Although, I don’t know why but while I read this, my very silly brain could only wander off to the recitations we made while I was still in highschool – this was catholic fyi. The most predominant of lines that popped in my mind was “Who is she that comes forth as the morning rising, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army set in a battle array”
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Conceived without sin…
went to a Catholic High School its possible those recitations kinda got stuck in the head lol
~B
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You have a way with words, beautiful.
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Thank you
Bless
~B
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