Thankful If For But Another Day
Yes, it is night, and even though the summer air is moist with a dry dew it still remains good
For an ingrate; would scold at the temperature, the gentle rhythm of the creatures
Frolicking in dark, or perhaps the dull shade of the moon
Might curse at the stars for not shining bright enough
Here I hold my folded hands, my rite of pleading, still at a begges stance
I am thankful, if for not the end of a plentiful day
The impatient might grow weary, for the dark has called to settle me down
So that my mind finds peace while I slumber
For I will be mindful that dawn will approach steadily to casually erase my dreams
Yes, it is morning, as my body shakes loose of its resting phase
I'll proudly say...
I am thankful if only for but another day
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