The Sun Like a Crown

I had a dream

of the darkness

before sunrise.

Therein, a woman

stood on the horizon,

chin held high.

Wearing the morning

sun like a crown, her

golden hair waved

my butterfly-angels


They nervously prayed

for her gaze

to grace them that day,

but, when I awakened,

the Lady was gone.

My butterfly-angels

swore to keep

the faith.

© CGT, 2018.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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