come the gentle breeze

come the gentle breeze in an early morning,
as the sun's golden rays start shining;
and the feathery clouds kiss the geese in flight.

and the geese are in flight
with the gentle breeze and the early morning light
dew drops clinging on the green grass;
sparkling diamonds on a velvety green bed
or tears of joy on the roses' petals, bloody red.

and the roses' petals are bloody red,
a fragile beauty amongst the masculine trees
a rustle of leaves, a reply to the gentle breeze
and the robin starts to sing,
a beat in every flutter of its wings.

and with the flutter of its wings,
a yellow leaf hanging for dear life left a scar in a bough
falling from its nook,
landing with a ripple on a sleepy brook.


12 april 1998