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Waiting for dawn

rising sun

Every day I woke up

to paint my red, rising sun-

A giant apple,

redder than the one in my art book.

Every day I woke up

a few minutes late.

The doctors said

My eyes were failing me.

A mist was going to cover them soon.

The doctors said

My knees were failing me.

The wheelchair could be donated soon.

The doctors said

My fingers were failing me.

The brush would fall to the ground soon.

The doctors never said

Hope would find me soon.

Their words like ghosts

Terrified my heart.

In the fear of falling apart

I woke up late.

Everyday.

People brought flowers

And words of courage.

” the darkest hour is just before dawn.

never give up, dear Mon.”

Very dimly it stuck to my brain

My darkest hour will last

As long as my faith in the doctors’ refrain.

One day I woke up

Along with the rising sun.

Redder than my imagination.

The redder it got

The more paint I mixed.

And once I had my rising sun

I knew there would only be dawns

In my way.

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