silence is not weakness,
nor are the sounds of acoustic
guitar strings, your smile is
painted with brushes of
sweetness, my heart awakens
to the bird who sings -
each word that you chirp glows in
the morning sun, then washes
away into those yellow lights,
many would anxiously search for those
sweet hymns when the day is done -
but i know each beautiful note sung will
channel the beauty of spring when
it is bright.

- t.m