Morning Walk
The still of early morning,
Made cold by January wind,
Has opened wide her silent arms,
And I am welcomed in
To sit and talk in sighs and whispers;
To muse and ponder on her skies;
To hear the dull and distant whistle
Of passing trains as they go by;
To walk with ghosts of people passed,
And visit places now unseen;
Old loves and thoughts and future plans
All keep me company
And when I’ve wandered far enough,
I’ll turn my weary mind toward home,
And bid farewell to silent walks
Within the morning gloam.
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