Morning

Let me fly, or sink.
Whichever breeds more romance than my father
in his young days as a nervous man.
For I wish to make the lovers swoon,
the dreamers dream and the singers croon.

Lift me up on the shoulders of the past and I’ll observe the
memories of the silver screen and sink into my emulsion
that lays painted on the stamp of my own future.
Expose me to light and watch the color burst from my celluloid veins and
saturate the hearts of my brothers.

Bring me to the sun and watch our encounter.
Invite the stars and whisper to the sea to churn violent
and rise up in ecstasy with the enchanted dawn that pulls me
along like a wandering child, thirsty for adventure.

Send me back to my present and watch the morning
spawn the rising mist that simmers to the sun and
washes night away with its cool aquatic sheen.
Crystal morning shines on the water by the trees.

Welcome the day for its sunlit embrace
and pay no thought to the evening.
Consider the light as it flirts with the leaves and decides to drop down
into the earth to seek the soul of romance
As the sun rises.