PINK DECEMBER SKY

Startling–
the glow
flamingo pink
up in dusk sky. . .

the year’s slink
back up
from low,

one more
December day
prepares to die,

an infant year
soon in to ring
for which we may
yet dream the wherefore
and the why.

As crucial, that,
for me,
as for any
other gal
or guy.

So, come with me
and join me,
as we each pursue
our brilliant dream,

and see how far
our vision and our gumption
take us,

and how
wondrously free
and high.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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