Inner Realm_ Dew_

Inner Realm _Dew_ In the bright Sunlight the city is full of quiet delight, The birds are silent with no morning air, The leaves are wet with morning dew, Air stops blowing and the Sun falls with thievish look. The bright day is born with the death of black night. The night is gone into naught with no trace behind, Only an airless pain is suppressed in my being. Birds from their cosy cote peep to flap their wings, Only glittering dew totters on verdant meadow, I walk on the grass staggering with the trace of sleep, Stumbling into grass to shed the dew on my feet, My dewy mind is adamant and sticky, With storms and gale it sheds not and glitters with wordless drowse. The dew is the chest of autumn to die into winter, The dew in my mind is false and it is always winter.