Awakening

---

Still cold is the background
Stealing a starting sound,
Catching in the twilight
The voice of sorrow’s might.

An echo virtually dead
Bring all  back the five senses
Of a  darkened drive.

Mist was not a fencing,
Only the beginning
Of the truly weakness
Owing to all the mess.

Utterance of the heart
losing the precious hour
Is Ready for a new dare.