To A Morning

To a morning

And this is not a story, I won't tell a story. It's a feeling. That I just put it up in words.

I don't know how many morning we've been through. Let me count it. Err... around 669 mornings.

Plus one more morning I just could have in a few hours.

From that many mornings we spent, I can't make an exact count of precious mornings we've been through.

But, there's a picture of a morning. It keeps echoing, keeps playing.

The morning tells me that I should give up. Because I didn't deserve anything.

And I gave up. For some reasons that maybe morning wouldn't understand.

Dear morning,

Do you know how many times I spend my time in the morning just to have a relax-breathe, pull them away from my nose, and I finally refresh everything, and then, I'm just so thankful for everything I got in that morning?

The number is just the same like how many times I feel hurt when I know you're my air I pulled out.

The hardest morning I ever got is when I couldn't make you realize that... everything was so different.

That I couldn't be so far away with my feeling. The truth, I got hurt because I couldn't convince you.

The truth, that the taste of my morning that time was so bitter and sour.

Dear morning,

Just if only the sun was not shinning, you wouldn’t be here. Through the sun, you live and you’re here. You fill my days, you make me alive. Yes, through you, I can even breathe and be grateful of everything that has come into my life.

Sound to much, eh?

This only because I love the air of every morning you give. I love you, but you won’t listen.

You won’t listen the voice I sing everytime you come.

I sing for the life that is brigher than ever with full of love that I can give.

I sing, but you won’t pay attention.

I keep singing for love. For a morning I miss.

From the little bird.