The grey sky shares with me its melancholy morning like a secret
woven into the lilting rhythm of birds and whispering trees
and though I cannot understand their language,
it is a beautiful refrain,
so I lend the beating of my heart to their chorus
and together we greet the new day gladly,
though quietly I wish that we might hold onto this moment
with the day spread out like a canvas before me,
as of yet unknown and untested.
Yet even now I see the grey sky grow lighter
while the music of the morning moves over for the sounds of the day
and I know that this moment, like all others before it
has tiptoed away in an instant of distraction
and is now lost to me forever.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
The grey sky shares with me its melancholy morning like a secret
woven into the lilting rhythm of birds and whispering trees
and though I cannot understand their language,
it is a beautiful refrain,
so I lend the beating of my heart to their chorus
and together we greet the new day gladly,
though quietly I wish that we might hold onto this moment
with the day spread out like a canvas before me,
as of yet unknown and untested.
Yet even now I see the grey sky grow lighter
while the music of the morning moves over for the sounds of the day
and I know that this moment, like all others before it
has tiptoed away in an instant of distraction
and is now lost to me forever.
