The sun rises
and my heart croons.
In the morning.
The birds of the world
accompany me.
And they croon.
A noon follows.
The old lady holds out
some yellow daffodils.
From a yard.
The birds are still crooning.
In my heart.
An evening comes.
I am sitting
by a cup of tea.
Dreaming.
Of some haze faces.
Fading.
Then another night.
It's raining.
Sluggishly.
Some birds
change into rain.
Floodig me.