By brian francis
In the morning’s early moments
When the sun begins to rise
Shadows start to coalesce
Beneath the purple skies
Birds begin their songs of love
A chorus as old as time
Breezes sway the mighty trees
As a poet seeks out rhyme
Words dance upon the tongue
In a graceful metered churn
Reflections of life’s embrace
the soul’s smoldering burn
wisps of life’s experiences
gleam within his eyes
as words are cast upon the page
in jumbled mixed up lines
The rhythm of these moments
Drift in eddied swirls
Like shifting sands creation brings
A string of precious pearls
Verses made with care and love
comedic or wise and sage
waiting there in black and white
For the turning of the page
Copyright ©2021 brian francis
Wordsmith: At The Forge 