'love you like this beautiful morn...
love you like this sunrising dawn...
love you like that swan white on flight...
love you like the shooting rays of new born light...'
he whispered a prayer like
and rode down
the street
where children did with school buses meet...
where newspaper vans stopped to unload clippings of broadsheet...
where pigeons still played hopping unafraid...
where trees standing by the wayside their leaves just waved...
he muttered
again soft
a prayer that the morn could possibly only for one drop...
'je t'aime comme un beau matin...'
he muttered riding down a street
covered by pinkish red golden spread like satin...
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