ONE DAY AT A TIME
224,399 poems read
Breezing Through
There's a breeze in the air,
Filled with mist I shall not fear.
Clouds are illusions that fade away.
Just like the passing of the day.
Birds chirping so softly and sweet.
Their language, although, I do not speak,
I hear their laughter, henceforth their cry,
Then join them in a song of a lullaby.
Night creeps up like shadows do,
Seeking shelter till dawn sweeps the dew.
I shall not fear the coming of another day.
For as the breeze, it too will fade away.
My knowledge, tis not of great extent,
Yet, tis more than I could ever pretend.
I will share in songs not yet sung,
Beezing through till the next has begun.
Yana Petkov Ilic
26th June 2002