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The whistle of that train Remains the same every day Bearing the steady Pitter-patter Of those drops Split splat splatter
And as the birds, they belt their passions Their broadcasts heard In worldly fashion While the air It slowly softens Senses aware Sip slurp coffee
Picture patterns are Set in motion as cloudy sections begin to open Ocean’s reflexion Is boldly showing And that breeze is Coldly blowing
This time is mine and so very cherished My mind unwinds then burdens perish Until that crying becomes A nuisance. Tiny eyes spying with tears effusive. Right back at it Quiet’s elusive.
- Caldwell Samuels
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- 3 years ago
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