Sunday, March 10, 2013

Grow



Out of the silent night cry.

The trees, blown softly by the breeze

And the branches - a lovely seat for the canary.

Winding away the tunes of nature,

Here I am sitting in wonder;

Was it you whom I chanced upon?

Or was it just another passer-by

In the cool dawn summers?

Tonight I will grow a memory.

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