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.