View From My Window
Ode To the Wind and the Blossom
Gentle spring, the morning will pass by fair,
when light creeps over the evening star,
and settle to the grass growing there,
we will drift upon the meadow's slow-moving war.
Gentle spring, your grassy bowers
will dance among the cool shade.
The rain will linger here among the flowers,
until its debt is paid.
Gentle spring, you moan and sigh
through the shimmering eaves.
When the light dims, the flowers will die,
until the Blossom heaves.
when light creeps over the evening star,
and settle to the grass growing there,
we will drift upon the meadow's slow-moving war.
Gentle spring, your grassy bowers
will dance among the cool shade.
The rain will linger here among the flowers,
until its debt is paid.
Gentle spring, you moan and sigh
through the shimmering eaves.
When the light dims, the flowers will die,
until the Blossom heaves.
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Ode To the Wind and the Blossom
Ode To the Wind and the Blossom
