One or two birds fly past my bedroom window;
several more are circling the skies;
where are they going, perhaps it's a surprise?
The sky itself looks heavy, dull and grey;
I long to go back to the month of May;
where things seemed brighter, happier and more optimistic;
when I had just a little more hope;
now all my heart wants to do is mope.
As I drift back off to sleep again, I briefly glance out my window
for the last time and silently pray.
What will become of my life today?
***********************************************************************I DON'T CARE MUCH FOR MONDAYS, WHAT ABOUT YOU?
***********************************************************************
"This is me - don't try and change it..."
