Painting at First Light

Morning:
Cleared the smoke from my eyes
Roved, through the bleached white halls
In a heavy haze of thought

Morning:
Painted away at first light
At the larks spearing worms
In the aftermath of rain
As coffee, steamed into life

Morning:
Sprung from myself
For the pulsing embrace of the world
With the courage of immortals

Good morning,
If only, it were more than a dream
In some distant year
When I’ve found my stride

© William Wright, Jr.

About the Author

 My name is William Lorenzo Wright, Jr. I am the youngest of three children, as well as the only son to two loving and hard-working parents. I am a college student from San Diego California and I hold a deep passion for reading and writing poetry. I was sixteen years old when I first fell in love with poetry and I have been faithful…