Poem of the Day 4/1/20

Now the sun shines through my window

And the morning breezes blow.

On the weeping willow tree

Small white flowers now grow.

But the air still holds a chill

And the streets are laying still

No one’s walking up to my door

And I wonder if they ever will.

These empty streets are crying

For the ones who once traveled through

And I watch them and I wait for

This world to wake up anew.