Thursday Riddle (Feb 13, 2014)

Do not, oh please don’t turn your back on me,
And trust me with your limbs for just another
Wee step, descend before you heed my plea:
No rungs, just up the one and down the other;
How pure the air of morning time can be.

You cannot forbid my arrival,
And though you may make me depart,
Returning am I when clouds gather high
Eclipsing the sun from your heart;

Or when you are lost in a tempest
Of heedless and dizzying mirth,
I come to remind you as subtly I blind you
To time in its glorious worth.

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