There is a day

<p>There is a day<br /> So quite out in an under lay<br /> That is created in clay<br /> Just like d soul of an early way</p> <p>I wake,<br /> Waking up in the Joy of immaculate..<br /> In radiance is the measure that I take,<br /> Laying down in the freshness that emerge from the sunny plate.</p> <p>Nothing could be better<br /> But a host of an early morning’s larks flow….</p> <p>Take a look!<br /> Everything seems out that I can’t meditate<br /> But down in my soul<br /> I’m elevate<br /> Just like the palm trees’ leaf rejuvenate,</p> <p>To the smooth smile of the sun<br /> That could make an hunter, in distress, blow the gun.</p> <p>Then I reminisce into d memory of d early days,<br /> When d eloquent voice of a mother eulogise manhood<br /> A sweet old days,<br /> Where nakedness is only clothe we play in….</p> <p>The days that d little ones dance to late night happiness of d moon,<br /> Where d silence of fairy tales elude….</p> <p>The days are old now<br /> Many memories are far beyond d cloud<br /> Sounds of sweet melody, in village square, are tie down<br /> White men witches are now found around….</p> <p>But there is a day<br /> So quite out in an under lay<br /> That is created in clay<br /> Just like d soul of an early way</p>

There is a day

There is a day So quite out in an under lay That is created in clay Just like d soul of an early way I wake, Waking up in the Joy of im...

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