seen in a brother's eyes
the morning, bright of fire,
reaches its hand out over the city;
and street lights, like anxious eyes,
look to the dawn with disdain,
tainted with traces
of lowly clouds in the west.
dawn finds the lawns drowsy, wet with dew;
the crisp winter air bites the breath
of the child, turning his collar to the cold.
looking to the sun, his eyes are of tears
saying, " you lie in jest..."
cry, child, cry.
breathe loud the lonely sigh.
having tread the night,
your restless thoughts
(which of the right?)
fall like rain,