At dawn the air is filled with dulcet notes,
A hymn that drifts from trembling leaves,
Each feathered throat a lantern of sound,
The morning wakes to music’s gentle fire.
A hymn that drifts from trembling leaves,
Where silence bends to wings in flight,
The morning wakes to music’s gentle fire,
A tender blaze the heart remembers.
Each feathered throat a lantern of sound,
Pouring light into the waiting sky,
A tender blaze the heart remembers,
At dawn the air is filled with dulcet notes.
Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting to my posts. It is very appreciated.
I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD. Therapy can be very expensive.
If you feel like donating to my fund you can donate using pay pal. My pay pal email for donating is:
Don’t feel you have to, there is no pressure, but I’m grateful for any donations that are received.
Again thanks for visiting!
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