The robin trills his morning poem
In measured meter
o’er and o’er.
He wakes the world
from silent slumber,
Morning tides true
troubadour.
Oft his song is
slow and somber
Sung to a
departing moon
To signal that the
night is over.
A new day will be
dawning soon.
Suddenly the world
is with you
Cluttering your
muddled mind
With thoughts of
would’ve, could’ve, should’ve
Leaving details
misaligned.
So much to do,
So much to say,
So little finished
and complete.
So many problems brought
to bear
And left to wallow
at your feet.
I will not yield
to melancholy,
Will not chant her
sad refrain,
Shall not have her
satisfied to
See me drowning in
her rain.
Tomorrow I shall
wake the robin
With my own sweet
morning song,
Find that long
lost treasure map to
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