It is good

In the quiet morning

When I hear the

Bird song

Notes of happy warm times

Singing about the blue glassy sky

That is when I think

It is good

Soft pale colors

Grace the memories

of my dreams

And I forget those dark thoughts

When I hear the

Bird song

That is when I think

It is good



Good morning Dear

I wished for you 

To be carried back to me

By the senses of the early morning

Each night you sleep

Your mind and spirit leave me all alone

Waiting for your return

I am afraid one night

Will last too long

Abd you will no longer be brought back 

Your eyes and peaceful face

Wherin lies the insipration for your contentment?

Love,  sing to me with yawns

Stretch your arms into me

Invade my morning and make the sunrise

As you wipe your eyes

May I stay near the warmth of

your good morning 

Dreams are better shared than saving 

For a rainy day

Tell me your thoughts as I drift to sleep

And I promise to wake

Just as you did for me

Morning Rise

The morning draws upon the night. Pushing the night out of the scene and becoming the main actor. First the morning sings a song. Tweets and twitters, a car passing by. A soft melody that graces my ears. Slowly, the song becomes filled with sounds of waking life. More birds, more people. The morning brings out its fully glory with the sun. The sun warms the grass and the petals of the tulips. It increases its shine on the sleepy eyed deer. The morning gives us a song and a light that we cannot resist. My body is eager to stretch and move. The morning beckons me from my slumber and I must rise. I anticipated a sting but rather the morning graces me with soft touches of sound and light. Smiles are my melody and sunshine is my harmony as I dress for the day.