Freakazoid Skeleton…

WINDOW:

Watch the birds come at dawn.

Picking grubs from the lawn.

And I give out a yawn.

It’s now tomorrow.

 

Then the sun gives a shout.

With it’s arms reaching out.

And I have all my doubt.

Or is it sorrow.

 

Through the glass when I peer.

I see the clouds turn to fear.

That’s when I disappear.

From the shadow. 

 

As I walk away though.

It may rain or even snow.

Either way I have to go

Outside my window.