The First Day
My Mornings are now, well, wonderful.
Something I now look forward to.
There is a bird singing outside my window,
And he sounds a lot like you do.
The problem is, he has to fly away, every now and then,
And I wish that he could stay.
But he takes my heart upon his wings,
And somehow makes it all okay.
And even though what keeps me from him,
Is a million constant waves.
He moves me so, incandescently,
In a billion different ways.
If only he could see my eyes,
He’d see the joy he brings.
He’d see the glistening happiness…
In the corners, where it stings.
And even when his years are numbered,
And his feathers have turned to grey…
I’ll be lying against my window.
Loving him.
As if, it were the very first day.
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