Whispers In the Morning
Whispers in the morning
trying to find your way
listen to the bluebird
and what she has to say
The notes are soft and gentle
every one is played for you
the sounds of sweet ambrosia
her feelings ringing true
On painted limbs of sage brush
there's a stillness in the air
love beads are melting
and the bluebird disappear
Whispers in the morning
what once was there is gone
empty is the meadow
off has flown her song
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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