(c) 2017 Edward York
The day was dark and chilly,
The sun was still asleep.
My mind still searched for wisdom,
Some phrase that I could keep.
My brain woke me up churning,
I had yet to make a sound.
My head was filled with phrases,
That begged me to write them down.
I glanced outside my window,
My eyes were trying to see;
But the fog had settled in so thick,
The view ended in front of me.
The sky was changing colors,
But not yet had turned to blue.
The grass was bathed in moisture,
Painted by the morning dew.
So I sat with morning coffee,
With a pencil held in hand.
But the words just didn\'t resemble,
The ones that I had planned.
This always seem normal,
For the stories I have penned.
I just have to get them started,
They will show me how to end.