Sunday morning, sunshine soul.
Sunday morning, softly plucked.
Body of music, from chello flows.
Body of music, leaves on ground.
Stories from sounds, ears open wide.
Melody of times, good gone by.
Rythm of days, promise to come.
Resonates with heart, glow in the room.
Breeze will blow, and clear the air.
Still those songs, hanging there.
Trips you took, while never left.
Tuning of the heart.
Whos words run free.
Across plains so plain.
Images more vivid then true.
And all shared in a moment.
---
George Dyke
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