My Mornings Here
in this sleepy town
where there is always rain
i thrive on the songs
of little birds
their notes chirping inside
my mind
i feed them grains of poetry
and they appear healthy
i grow some trees where
they nest and lay eggs of ideas
in this sleepy town
my burdens are light
my canvass is the darkness of the night
my hope is a star
hanging on the tree without leaves
a cocoon opens and gives birth
to another yellow butterfly
it flutters and finds a white daisy
and they kiss
i watch wrapped by the rays of the morning sun
i ponder if this will ever end
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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