Special Things

Reflections, shadows and echoes,
A luminous coal of winter's dark;
Now gone into dawn's new glows,
Its cold blue and frosty spark.
The fixed and empty even sky,
In horizon of yellow and red;
Into the time's of gone echoes fly,
With flowers of colors instead.

The open spring day flashes out,
With the illuminate of special things;
The new all around in a runabout,
This early of happy awakenings.
Floodgates of the open ageless,
Windmills of sounds and bell;s
All what comes with morning fresh,
And darkness of winter dispels.

Reflections of day in spring's night,
When dark meets the early hours;
Roses of colors that come with light,
In fragrance and beauty of flowers.
The horizon of darkness bonfire,
Turning to yellow unleavened clean;
Hours of old that gave strong desire,
Of summer's evenings yet to be seen.