The bird sings into the silent night
And puts all the frogs to shame.
The crickets lower their violins
To be able to hear the echo of names.
The names of all the beautiful things
That makes up this little world.
The names of every flower,
Twinkling star,
And little girl.
The bird resonates into the silent night
A solo opera for open ears,
It bleeds its soul into the darkened sky
Only audible for a few to hear.
The creatures wait on baited breath
To listen to its song.
To hear the melancholy tune
Stretch out all night long.
The bird ***** in its little tree
With eyes only half closed,
It sings a sweet soft melody
To nature down below.
It sings of tomorrow’s promises,
Of all the laughter and the joy,
The bird sings us a lullaby
To help our dreams come alive.
ALC March 17, 2016
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
The bird sings into the silent night
And puts all the frogs to shame.
The crickets lower their violins
To be able to hear the echo of names.
The names of all the beautiful things
That makes up this little world.
The names of every flower,
Twinkling star,
And little girl.
The bird resonates into the silent night
A solo opera for open ears,
It bleeds its soul into the darkened sky
Only audible for a few to hear.
The creatures wait on baited breath
To listen to its song.
To hear the melancholy tune
Stretch out all night long.
The bird ***** in its little tree
With eyes only half closed,
It sings a sweet soft melody
To nature down below.
It sings of tomorrow’s promises,
Of all the laughter and the joy,
The bird sings us a lullaby
To help our dreams come alive.
ALC March 17, 2016
