I am the breaking of the morning,
Not promised, but a gift ~ a poet's
Blank page on which to write
Its verses of the day ~ that which
Has been stored in pockets of the mind,
Those which are fresh, not yet
Tattered, growing cautious over time.
I am ever ready to record as a
Rembrance, etched for all eternity ~
The words of the inspired,
Upon the sacred scrolls of poetry.