tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10389482391716618132012-02-16T20:02:28.777-08:00Peter S. Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1038948239171661813.post-37770879349579411202007-03-24T07:33:00.000-07:002007-03-24T07:39:14.565-07:00<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/RgU4CnoS8lI/AAAAAAAAABY/oBV6nRcoEDk/s1600-h/Mornings+To+Be.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/RgU4CnoS8lI/AAAAAAAAABY/oBV6nRcoEDk/s320/Mornings+To+Be.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045500575187399250" /></a><br /><br />Coming in brightness<br />Mornings to be<br />Everything is fresh<br />For my eyes to see<br />Lighten up flowers<br />And everything beneath<br />Day breaking hours<br />White bridal wreath<br /><br />A song called love<br />Awaken the trees<br />With breeze from above<br />To blow and please<br />A night to other day<br />Returning to shine<br />Wind with clouds play<br />At the horizon line<br /><br />Welcome - give a kindle<br />Let life now awake <br />Darkness swiftly dwindle<br />On sunny side take<br />Gather into the mist<br />Colors from the wood<br />Beaming dismal gist<br />This in shadows stood<br /><br />Sweet the morning comes<br />Ensign pale and young<br />The dark away strums<br />In blissful rousing song<br />Oh give regards to dreams<br />Those were in twilight<br />Castle clouds regimes<br />From star and moonless night<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1038948239171661813-3777087934957941120?l=some-fake-sheets-for-march-2007.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Peter S. Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1038948239171661813.post-7324764325331984432007-03-23T17:34:00.000-07:002007-03-23T17:35:48.785-07:00<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/RgRyWXoS8kI/AAAAAAAAABQ/agoK3M1FBOI/s1600-h/I+Wait+For+Spring.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/RgRyWXoS8kI/AAAAAAAAABQ/agoK3M1FBOI/s320/I+Wait+For+Spring.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5045283211187515970" /></a><br /><br /><br />Now is no time for anything<br />Only some dreams faraway<br />This winter I wait for spring<br />The rising of a flowering day<br /><br />My ears are open to sound<br />That awakes songs into air<br />So much newborn is found<br />Pleasurable around and fair<br /><br />Memories from gone past<br />I hold now close to my heart<br />When summer comes at last<br />Each of them I again impart<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1038948239171661813-732476432533198443?l=some-fake-sheets-for-march-2007.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Peter S. Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314noreply@blogger.com1