A tune melancholy
The foreglow of the Sun,
A morning quiet
Without the city-burn.
A few minutes perhaps
Of watching nature's glory,
Triumph over the skyline
And start the daily story.
What is past was once the future
And so would this moment be
Before the noise steals it, however,
Consign it to memory.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A tune melancholy
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