Waking at five in the morning, peaceful tranquility, not a sound to disturb sleeping butterflies, here I am alone, disturbed no compensation for hardly any shutterbies, the trickle of an over zealous pump from my fish, yet still I wish, a desire, only to be cured with a loving kiss.
Six o’clock the birds sing a song of wake, collecting my jacket off the hook, I shake, resembling a man who’s spirit is ready to amalgamate another day with good intentions, still dormant from the hard floor of redemption, still away I go, leaving the quietness of my life.
However strong, the change is too long, my hearts desire is to be at home once again, missing the precious moments that I am within your life, my companion, my love, I dare say, my wife, incorporating the chase, at five.
Too long the song is mellow and sad, aching to dance lively with fun, a little fad, frequently the chance to move near In keeniss, I jerk for a minute to the awkward obscene jingle of the beat, until I collapse in a seat, retiring for the evening.
Weekend walking incorporating all the colours of my desire, deep red sky warns of danger to come, pleasant none the less, a peace unknown for some, while walking through the crested path gravel underfoot, I spoke to the little red breasted Robin, he rested close, baying for my attention or maybe for a pose, I will never know
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