Echoes of Life

Laying in bed,

Listening to the sounds,

Of early morning life.

The buzz of cars down the road,

Coming back from the late shift,

Or heading to the early one.

The gentle patter of rain on the roof outside,

I see a sliver of sky,

Through almost closed curtains,

Reddish hue,

Or dark billowing cloud.

A gentle breeze,

That rustles the leaves,

On tall and slightly swaying trees,

Old trees, climbing to the sky,

Seeing generations pass them by.

The odd chirp of the early bird,

Or another animal sound,

That make the world seem so,


The early morning signs of life,

That give hope to a girl,

Laying in bed, in a creaking house.