Sunlight looms with promise, on the horizon,
casting a dappled dream upon a digital page;
much for a proverbial cup of brew or leaf,
with cherry orb on top of a dollop of cream;
whipped before an envisioned, adoring public
perhaps, then the Muse would cast its magic--
a deserved attention endowed, for a token fee
for a free flash of light, earnest wait begins;
once between dawn and dusk an opportunity
to those pledged --that it will all be worth it,
--that mere humans do come to a poet's aid.*


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