Sapped early morning

Her golden mane tightly tied into a ponytail
shone bright, lurid at times.
Her eyes always rejoiced at the rising sun
so grateful to witness another wonder of a day.
But when the cunning ways of fate
grasped her lover's breath and wrung it dry
her bonny face turned wretched.
Her features, now forlorn
writhed in agony as the keening, so strident
sapped the early morning's buzz of the bees
and the choir of mockingbirds
welcoming the light upon the dew-covered lawns.

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