I will be the morning

The forger of carousel dreams

That tickle and tousle the spinning illusion

Of a thousand unknowing souls

I want to be bright feathers

On a canvas of woven hues

A collection tin of purple treasure

And nights of shuffling feet daydreams

I long to be a spinner of tales

On an empty so-and-so web

Fledgling heroes and weeping ashes

The towers of dandelion kings

I am a learner of blue moon study

Reading stories of eccentric ages

Ruby teachings and magic lessons

And the fading rainbow's lost gold

I used to be red sunbeams

In a darkness deep and dull

Emerald twilights from countless candles

And the open dusk that's dawning

I let go of wild fire

The stuffed tomorrow lost in sanctuary

Leading towards the opposing shore

Where lies reign over thunder

I've forgotten how to fly

How auburn breezes make me shutter

Endless underbellies of hidden cities

And a secret knowing eye friend

But I will always remember

The morning