Soft morning pouring through the blinders
Inviting to embrace a brand new day.
After a night of questions unanswered,
The birds came again to play.
A battered body can heal,
Maybe better than a spirit would.
Each step is like climbing a hill,
A climb not meant for the fool.
The sun throws reflexes on the wall,
Teasing you to come and play too.
Smile over the pain and sorrow,
Whistle with the birds a little tune…
And the beauty of the morning
Poured slowly through my heart -
As I smelled the coffee brewing,
The last twinkle of the morning star.
picture by Michelle Vogt
No comments:
Post a Comment