It was cold this morning but there was a concert in my garden.
I took my tea, installed the cushion on my favourite chair.
There was dancing and singing and bell ringing,
I am right in the middle of town.
The trees were dancing and waving about.
Surly showing me their seasonal gowns.
Yellow and gold and scarlet red, twirling and twisting as they float to their bed.
The birds were singing and flying up high, higher than the roof tops into the sky.
The clock rings out, nudges me aware that it's time for breakfast,
No more time to dream and stare.
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