The muse of mornings and evenings <br />is running from room to room, in small wooden steps <br />procratination's fading away when she shines <br />tears dried up under her purple spells <br /> <br />will the sequel equal the first draw? <br />will I be worthy of her being there beauty that is raw <br />her name is the answer to dark days and wounded paw <br />don't grow up with haste dear comet once we saw <br /> <br />days dripping fast to sunny rays of Spring <br />stars sending me all their envious poems you wear with your ring <br /> <br />grateful to love the presence of Little Nowadays Star <br />don't ever worry about passing clouds, I never far. <br /> <br /> <br />O.O.W <br />11-16-2011 <br />02-05-2012 <br />03-23-2012 <br />*<br /><br />O. C. Woods<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-daughter-4/
