Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
My reflection faced me
in a bowl of pastry, recently,
and my eye teeth ached
at the truth of the triviality.
They say the darkest hour
falls just before the dawn;
they say the dying soul holds on
until the day is born.

It's said the sea lies ebbest
before the highest tide;
at flood, the channel's deepest:
at ebb, rocks cannot hide.

Nature runs in cycles.
This is what they say.
But summer turns to winter.
Night always follows day.

— The End —