Mourning of Morning

Time tells all, but time does fall;

Morning glories grow ten feet tall.

Where brooks and streams lay counter-part;

They flow toward the oceans of my heart.

Sparrows fly low by meadows grass;

Forgetting all of a hearts broken past.

6 o'clock and the sun peaks through;

Only thing on my mind is you.

So sing a sprightly tune, and hum a melody;

Dream a gentle dream of together that we'll be.