#2262-Gentle

Poems
Written By

Some days,

It is not the chirping,[nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc][nbsp_tc]

Of early morning birds,

But a painted skyline,

Awakening hopes and dreams,

From the dark slumber,

Of a restless night.

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