A morning brew of early rays,
A sadness for a dream that fades,
A starless night of clouds' hates, -
A coin for a gaze been chased.
All murmours flawed, all winters tight
On roses lost for you to find.
A lot of "knows" from scratch to write, -
Forgiving walks in hand with kind.
A pure intention of the clock
In rapid rise of dawn and knock.
Magician's laying spelling fog,
While writer's curse is cleansing vaults.