I open the curtains and look


    towards the morn.


    A world of dove grey clouds;


    Warm sunrise:


    Plus melodious bird song.


    What thoughts assailed me yestereve,


    Have been driven separate ways by the


    onset of a new morning.


    Bright, clear,


    True and healthy


    Great with promise,


    Full of opportunity


    With the birdsong comes a


    Chorus of colour


    Rose Pink, Lavender.


    Teal blue and cream yellow


    Caught by the sun rays.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.Echoed by a myriad of flowers


    The last days of Spring,


    Or the first dawn of Summer,


    Walking through a meadow of crystals,


    Accompanied by dancing butterflies.


    Robes lit by the Sun.


    Gaze sparkling like the dawn.


    To which the chimes of the morn chorus,


    Are joined by the rhymatic notes from a Quartet of


    Tower Songstresses.


    One for each Season.


    One for each of the Floral districts


    That make up the realm to which I have only


    begun to add words about:


    Chimefields.