There are old stairs that look dried from the hard sun. The
splintery boards ready to snap under any presser.
Green grass that looks freshly mowed covered in dew from the
night
A bench running along the house also made of dry dray
splintery wood.
But now the morning light dues not shine like always, it
hides as I still get up.
Sometimes a bunny will hop around on the ground not even
knowing I’m there.
The fag to glazes the dew over my yard, still lingers
around.
A bird bath that hides in the shadows of my neighbor’s yard.
The pool belonging to the house next to there’s hiding from
me, but I know it’s there.
An apt description of mornings this time of year:
ReplyDeleteBut now the morning light does not shine like always, it hides as I still get up.