It's one of those mornings,
Shrouded in cloud and calm,
The lake and mountain in hiding,
Bird song adds the morning charm.
Smoke rolls out of the chimney top,
Hanging lazily in the air,
Drawing the world to an stop,
And drifts on without a care.
People travelling along their lives,
The hurry to work or school,
As busy as bees in their hives,
As mindless as a fool.
Morning holds the key,
That not all can see,
But I see the beginning,
And end of all in the life and beauty in the morning,
Why me?
YOU ARE READING
A collection of poems
Poetryjust poems I've written on the bus to school or boat to England.
