Sunday Mornings
Posted: Sun Nov 20, 2011 9:08 amA sunbeam finds a passage
Through a stand of trees
A bird sings a tune, feathers
Rustling in the breeze.
It is morning, the clouds have
All passed by, the sun is over
The mountain and so is the big sky.
Gone is the precious night, where
We so lovingly curled into each other
As I felt your warm breath upon
My shoulder and your love upon my heart.
Through a stand of trees
A bird sings a tune, feathers
Rustling in the breeze.
It is morning, the clouds have
All passed by, the sun is over
The mountain and so is the big sky.
Gone is the precious night, where
We so lovingly curled into each other
As I felt your warm breath upon
My shoulder and your love upon my heart.