Dew Rewrites

The night holds words never spoken,
it keeps them among leaves and stars.
The dew collects them, bright promises,
and carries them to dawn, to a new beginning.
Every drop is a phrase that breathes,
dissolving in light and gentle frost.
The day rewrites itself, thanks to that draught,
with delicate letters that tremble.
Dawn opens a book still virgin,
the wind reads the reconciled words.
The day, remade, breathes a new music,
and the world receives it like a reborn text.