Smouldering of light
rises slowly in the east,
our land is blushing.
Amongst clumps of thorn,
the wooden monuments
of a life long gone.
A scene emerges,
for early luminosity
shows burial places.
Echo’s in the mist,
hold hidden memories,
still untouched by time.
Bob Blackwell
06-07-2011
Bob Blackwell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-rising/
