The Dance of the Morning

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The sky cries it's tears of joy

The misty air painting a scene

In the darkest of dawn

The leaves of silk smooth with dew

And blades of grass covered too

With misty air those have seen

The wonders of what lay beyond the seems

The cold stones slick with water

The tall trees blowing the leaves into a dance

The rivers sings a song of silence

As it all comes to an end

The morning sun set to rise

And greatest things one must supply

For beautiful things happen here

In the Dance of the Morning

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