Heart Of The Matter
Born To Spring
The morning coffee grows cold in my cup,
I just want to sleep, instead I wake up,
The sun filters through the shades in my room,
The last time I looked, the moon was in bloom,
It's Saturday morning, I've no place to go,
No plans for the weekend, I'll go with the flow,
I'll empty the vase of the flowers in decay,
Prepare for the gift of my birthday bouquet,
Another year older, yet wiser, it's true,
Make a list in a notebook of things I must do,
Revisit the past where the memories remain,
Send a thought to some friends that I won't see again,
Take a glimpse at the future, how bright it appears,
Reach out for the love that has lingered for years,
Book up a flight to some far distant place,
Just to bathe in the love that emits from his face,
And somewhat perplexed by the passage of time,
I crumple the thoughts that don't fit the rhyme,
A blackbird is calling, how sweetly he'll sing,
How blessed, truly blessed, to be born into spring.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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Born To Spring
Born To Spring
