What Might Happen
Haunted by a bright glow dawn
green flecked grass yet fresh mown lawn
verses spring to mind each day
sunshine has its lustrous ray
Skies awash with vivid hue
shades on canvass that imbue
clouds of yellow, orange and red
sculpt fair passages ahead
Watch the coal-rimmed sweet moon peep
linger when the world‘s asleep
streetlight gaze on ice cold pier
night owls hoot but never fear
Children shriek in rippling stream
playful chatter, oak wood dream
mother, father, bound to smile
now relaxing for awhile
City dwellers rise again
darting towards the nearest train
wonder as they often do
what might happen, something new
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