Sunday Morning, 9.45

The voice of the trees singing sweetly,

Their mother caressing them gently,

Wisps of hair fly over my face

Soothing sleep my eyes doth kiss.

A distant drilling machine rumbling,

The tinkling of cycle bells.

Caw Caw. 
The vicious acquaintance is

Here to announce his loud presence.

Instrumental music on the TV,

A delicious aroma wafting about,

Lost in thought over an assignment.

The pencil rolled over,

And I bent over to pick it up.

The trees singing sweetly.