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The Larks Sang.
How the Larks sang, as if
the very clouds were filled with
sunshine.
But a grey day cold, the sun had
not the heart to shine.
Yet still they sang as Red Kites
danced below them.
How the Larks sang, as if
the very clouds were filled with
sunshine.
But a grey day cold, the sun had
not the heart to shine.
Yet still they sang as Red Kites
danced below them.
No matter the wait, this is
No matter the wait, this is beautiful, a scene I never imagined, brought to life, imprinted, and set in a smile. Thank you.
This is not "slow going" poetry.
This is full throated poetry. Stay with it.
Thank you Mylo, I really
Thank you Mylo, I really appreciate you comment. :-)