it is morning!
and I can hear the morning birds singing.
beautiful are their voices,
with a touch of a super feel.
wonderful escorts of a beholding day,
convoys of a gladly day.
their melodies are a million hope filled,
and their brightly feathers—a thousand fold dreams.
on this morning tale I weave,
in this ink piece I pour,
I see a brighter day ahead—
and a miracle about to work wonder.
even if hope is fading like the vapours of stews,
and faith failing on it fulcrum—
these sweet voices from the birds;
gives new hopes, faith, and dreams— to see the light ahead.
The Village Thinker! © 2014