The early morning listens to soft words that weep in stillness
Echoing from the treetops of their existence
While distant mountains breathe an air of sadness
Into the verses that now arise
From my soul

In places where the sunrise accepts forever’s gentle fade
Stand the tears upon a raindrop’s face
Falling a thousand times to be lost in the shadows
Where they play among the pages
Of my day

But when the scent of a special grace, smiles into my depths
Sweet spirals of my existence break through
I find I am breathing out an air of precious gladness
Into the verses of soft words
That ensue