Sipping coffee as the morning bird sings,
remembering the past as the day goes on.
Clouds blowing by with an angel's whisper
as the sun rises to a new dawn.
He brings with it a new song to sing,
of things yet to come and those unseen.
Upon his perch with a melody so sweet,
chirps of bright flowers and grass that's green.
Silver dew falls from moistened leaves,
as the melody I hear begins to fade.
Lifted to the sky by the winds of heaven,
carrying with him his music made.
Quietly, I now find myself alone.
My ears long for his sound in sorrow.
While I sit and patiently wait for
his Song of the Day, tomorrow.
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