Re: Silver Surfers.
I wrote this one early morning waiting for my Daughter to pick me up, I was sitting in our front porch.
A nightingale sang in Berkley Square?
That can't be true, it never lived there,
But a Robin singing in darkness chill
Of street light night, he will!
The time, five forty five, this early morn
When I heard that song, long before dawn.
His Winter melody rang sweet and clear
I knew that he was perching near.
By our porch window, in the tree
He sang his heart out there for free
T'was as if his song was just for me.
It sounded so lover-ly.