The morning, glorious appears
sunlight falls softly over me.
Birds singing, winds sigh
little ones playing, charmingly
What perfect joy, spreading
Life is all fulfilled
Everywhere life is blooming
Budding plants holding dew,
Grass blades bow, all unassuming
I recline in perfect repose
Hearing all, doing nothing,
Sitting quietly, in my robes,
not to disturb the most beautiful morning.
I will play the part
of the wall
I will be silent
as the wall
I will not go away
like the wall
I will lend a shoulder
unlike the wall
But I am flesh not stone
and at your beck and call
You can talk to me
as you would the wall
I would like you to talk to me
for I, too, talk to my wall.
There is a poem I seek.
It speaks of children of the week.
The name and poet will do.
If I get it all, Thanks will go to you.
I wait for it with still breath.
Not receiving it won't bring my death.
So, if youknow it well.
To me please do tell.
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