Sitting here thinking clear,
Of beauty beyond my window;
The city sitting standing there,
Is quite and still yet moving here.
The mystery of life goes on,
Of how the sun rises and how its shone;
It's not s if it's all ashtray,
But providing me here a picture today.
I often wonder and I stare,
It's why or when I should compare;
It's just as if each day goes by,
Without a prayer or having to try.
When in the end it's all said and done,
And the day is ended by the sinking sun;
As all the care of the world went away,
To let me live and fight yet another day.
And if by chance we too should meet,
Or pass each other in the street;
Id remember back to my window view,
Ad try and give you a thought or two.
For sitting here along by myself,
Is sad yet happy to be living yourself;
For when my pen has written these words,
You're love and mine is only the sound of birds.
Signed,
For giving wisdom.