Ordinary day.

Won't it be an ordinary day

where the seas still cradle, and the moon still
boughs at eve,

I'm prolonged by my ability to reach my sorrow,  in a place so far to grieve, 

won't it be an ordinary day
 

Where blue skies tame the birds that fly, and flowers lay so close too I,

In a medley only the bees know well, for sorrows seek me there too dwell,

Where extraordinary life is then embraced,  and minutes held are not two faced.