The crickets sing
and the trees speak...
in their gently wafting breeze.
My terrace's hanging baskets
are beautifully blooming
in gold, deep violet and green.
The bike path breathes
with much activity...
strollers, bicycles, doggies.
The traffic lessens
and street lights are on...
glowing softly, this dusk hour.
The clouds, still pinkish-tinged
have bedtime nestled
below the leafy horizon.
The twilight has waned
and the moon...somewhere...
rules the night-time sky.
My Danielle Steel novel is closed;
and in quiet contemplation...
I'm bathed in sentiments of you.
Merle Baird-Kerr
written September 3, 2011
and the trees speak...
in their gently wafting breeze.
My terrace's hanging baskets
are beautifully blooming
in gold, deep violet and green.
The bike path breathes
with much activity...
strollers, bicycles, doggies.
The traffic lessens
and street lights are on...
glowing softly, this dusk hour.
The clouds, still pinkish-tinged
have bedtime nestled
below the leafy horizon.
The twilight has waned
and the moon...somewhere...
rules the night-time sky.
My Danielle Steel novel is closed;
and in quiet contemplation...
I'm bathed in sentiments of you.
Merle Baird-Kerr
written September 3, 2011
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