Theres a breeze that blows that misses my face
Grass that grows at an unseen pace
Pathways that wind to a hillside view
That witness the form of the morning dew
Dogs that still bark though yet unheard
Songs from the heart of the morning bird
Lambs bleating loud but still unspoken
Silent fields as if now all broken
Chatter of children heading for the playground
The whistle of the Postie as he goes about his round
Rain and wind that makes the trees rustle
All sing their songs but I raise not a muscle
For I sing a tune that should carry on the breeze,
But as loud as I can sing it is only just a tease
I sit a world away from the land that i knew
And the silence that I hear is so deafening too.
Grass that grows at an unseen pace
Pathways that wind to a hillside view
That witness the form of the morning dew
Dogs that still bark though yet unheard
Songs from the heart of the morning bird
Lambs bleating loud but still unspoken
Silent fields as if now all broken
Chatter of children heading for the playground
The whistle of the Postie as he goes about his round
Rain and wind that makes the trees rustle
All sing their songs but I raise not a muscle
For I sing a tune that should carry on the breeze,
But as loud as I can sing it is only just a tease
I sit a world away from the land that i knew
And the silence that I hear is so deafening too.
No comments:
Post a Comment