Mornings Memories

 

The morning sings of new beginnings

Of fresh starts and new life brimming.

The air is crisp with crimson hue

And flowers are bathed in misty dew.

The birds sing songs of joy and life,

The priest chants prayers of peace from strife;

The market awakens, the bustle begins

Homes are astir with buoyant din.

Life, seems to beckon and call 

Offering adventure and nary a fall.     

And yet I sit and stare out at the sun

As memories flood in

Of times once gone.

Theresa. V

This poem is my attempt at breaking out of my 4-line, 4-stanza poem structure. While I did try to also shake up the rhyme scheme - I don't think that habit is going to die easily. It's nowhere near perfect - but I hope that It can stand as a mark of progress.

This must be the only poem where I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to focus on. It started out as the last three lines and slowly grew 'backwards' into this. A huge thank you to my roommate S, for all the time spent reading out my lines and pointing out the 'weird' sounding bits - without you I wouldn't have been able to better it. And a huge thank you to my new friend J for criticism and encouragement to try out new structures!