A Morning Song Poem by Troy Cochran

A Morning Song

Rating: 5.0

Some days are sheer poetry.
Some days are nearly song.
Some days I wake in fragments
and put myself together wrong.

The sun behind me is a halo.
My leaves are turning into gold,
dropping coins upon the pavement
for anyone who comes along.

My trees are crazy-headed children,
their shadows stretching out to yawn.
Whatever they were dreaming
is going, going, gone.

There is no right way, ya'll,
to sculpt a perfect morning.
We do the best with what we have.
And we have it All.

Sunday, October 8, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn,creation,dreams,morning
Kumarmani Mahakul 09 October 2017

Autumn breeze is very well felt from this tender song. These days are definitely seer poetry. Sun behind leaves turn into golden colour. Trees are crazy-headed children. They dance in blowing of wind. Pavement for anyone who comes along with memory is arranged in fragments. Brilliant and perfect imagery is drawn in this poem. This is excellently penned...10

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Troy Cochran 31 October 2017

Thank you, Kumarmani. It was one of those mornings when writing a poem about it transformed everything. Wish every day could start off so lovely. Takes practice, I guess. ;)

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Nidhi Agrawal 08 October 2017

Lovely description of a morning scene. Trees stretching like lazy children and leaves falling like golden coins. Beautiful

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Troy Cochran 31 October 2017

The trees all in yellow put me in mind of my own yellow-haired daughter when she was small, waking up with a bewildered look in her eyes and hair gone crazy. Life was a little simpler back then. I always loved being a father. But if I think too much about it I get sad, so.... Thank you for your comments. Sorry for the long delay in responding. I've been away for several weeks. But I've taken a look at your site and see that you have quite a lot of good poems there. I'll visit them again and comment soon. Take care. :)

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