Folk music
Gently breaks the silence,
Streams of the morning sun
Fill the room with soft warmth.
Shadow curled around my legs
To protect me from some perceived danger,
But it’s only age creeping in upon my body
And she is unaware of it’s presence.
My eyes drearily close,
And in the grayness
Random memories dart about as tho water spiders
Upon a Summer’s pond.
I wonder why I linger so?
Is it the many chores undone,
The visions not yet dreamed,
Or could it be that I’m afraid?
Somewhere off in the distance
I hear a familiar voice call in the evening shade,
“Come home, suppers ready
And we’re waiting for you.”
Will I disappoint if I tarry?
If I try to dream one more dream,
Or run against the wind
One more time?
