Faint, gentle,
the distant singing;
I hear them every morning
as the first wind blows,
carrying their voices
to my sluggish ears,
rousing me from dreams,
calling to my heart
with a careful legato,
to the tune of your name.
I wake to greet another day
in a world made beautiful
by your presence.
As you turn
to open your eyes,
I touch your face
through the ray of sunlight
sneaking into your window
while their voices soar
to a grand crescendo
as they sing of us,
and slowly
glide to a low hum
to let us know
the world is alright;
the world is brand new.
They Sing of Us
February 2, 2022
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