(what’s the story) morning glory
I was dreaming when I wrote this. Picture this.
The sun is up, the sky is blue, light shines in, but it still feels like dark too dark to see, because bitterly cold.
I can hear the wind, it’s always here, blowing in my mind. Mercilessly sometimes, but mostly some kind of wonderful.
It’s early in the morning and I hear all kinds of birds. Whistling their songs, rich and complex at the same time.
A variety of sounds take over my thoughts and suddenly I’m elsewhere.
I’m there where spring is.
In all her glory.
I can feel it in my body.
As if I’m wonderfully sensitive and everything, I mean literally everything, feels, smells, tastes like more. You especially, especially for you.