I love the sunshine of the morning's day
when things are still and quiet;
when the cars and noise and traffic
don't create a roaring riot.
When the brightness of the hour,
pushes darkness to it's grave;
when to the coffee's flavor,
I am still a slave.
When the pace of life is muted,
when the breeze has not yet stirred;
when all the music is a bird call,
the only song that's heard.
Then I can face the afternoon,
and take whatever comes my way;
for once in motion, life takes place,
as time slips on away.