It felt like my time was coming,
I’m not afraid of what’s to come,

I’ll keep writing odes to love,
And life in sorrow,

I’m fading inward, starting from my fingertips,
So the moon has invited herself

To stay a little longer,
She weeps rain as tomorrow

Arrives with a picnic basket,
Heavy with what once was,

The morning sun sits in a corner,
Just ready to shine once more,

And what a beautiful morning
I have bought with breaths and sighs,

60 degrees haven’t felt this good,
It surfs upon the wind,

Carrying a boombox that
Plays melancholy,

It reaches my ears to remind
Me of the pain,

But thank god for beautiful
Mornings, and the clicking of time.

And pocket change.