annaportfolio-davis10 - Emily Dickinson Emulation

There's a certain Shade of sunrise,
Early Mornings-
That reveal, like the Sweep
Of a Kitchen broom-

Lonely Solitude, it secludes us-
I can find no quiet,
But the loud drumming of thoughts,
Where the Confusion, is-

None may see it- none-
'tis the Blind Eye-
A national disease
Sent by Ignorance-

But when it comes, the World feels-
Emotions-at a stand still-
When it appears, 'tis like the Broom
Sweeping dust from the Kitchen Floor-