The shiver of the pine needles
As the breeze comes flowing through
Shakes off that which is left behind
By the morning dew.

The rising sun comes shining down
Warming everything in sight
Letting all the little creatures show
Who hide within the night.

There's chirping of the early birds
Who fly from tree to tree
While some sing songs of happiness
Some sing of misery.

They wake me in the morning
From my long and peaceful sleep
They urge me to get up and go
Find that for which I seek.

And at this point, my story ends
I have yet to find my love
But when I do, my question is
Will that be enough?

~020200~