Chirping birds early in a fine morning
The vast sky's blue---pale or not I can't tell
Morning breeze in the mist still lingering
Sketched out motions speak volumes in levels.

Silence spread and grew out in wide corners
Like a trampoline when pressure exists
Thou shall glue immense pieces thy garners
Pausing the chain of blank thoughts in amidst.

It was peace but why do oneself screams 'sick'?
Rusty roof still covered in green like moss
Afraid to tell, will thee really won't speak?
Queries in clouded mind, was it my loss?

Scenes are set, is it morning or mourning?
Thee tell, peaceful or excruciating?