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Jared Allard May 2013
The Sprout and the Bean are genetically the same:
Born from the same mother plant,
Planted in the same mother Earth,
but one had rain,
and the other still waits for a rainier future.
Jared Allard May 2013
The Sun rises again
And Dawn is staring right into my eyes.

She lived to meld into Day
—with him forever—
And then night fell.
And then she looked my way.
And then she came back again.

Now, Dawn is on my doorstep,
and the Sun rises behind her,
She stands right where last I saw her leave.
She went out with a sigh because I loved her,
But she’s back again with the dew and light, illuminated.

Behind her, pastel purple pockets open up across the sky,
And the Sun gleams like her great brown eyes: hard and bright.
I see oranges flecks in the sky and on Dawn’s dress’s fringe,
but I am surprised to find her back here again.

Dawn is so bright and calm and sweet,
She shines on and on before me:
brightened by the Sun and past memories of love.
She rejuvenates the body and the mind.
I find it hard to find a reason
As to why she would appear twice in one day.

But I can see something in her eyes.
Even though she faces me,
I know that Day and the rising Sun are on her mind
in the center of her skies:
12 o’clock noon in her heart.
And then I know Dawn and I would always end up apart,
separated by the hours in a day.

Dawn is rising
She is coming back
Here, she is now
Dawn is staring
And I will stare right back
because I cannot look away.

— The End —