By Victoria Joan Glenn

The flowers close their petals
and slowly drift to sleep. . .
soon the dew will wake them
as the dawn begins to creep.

My weary eyes seeks solace
as they close, perchance to dream,
and while flowers have their visions
I explore a stray moonbeam.

I?ll wander in a dream of you
?till the suns warmth heats my skin
and flowers wake to kiss the light
as a new day does begin.

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