Twenty-Four Hours--By Jack Horne--England

Twenty-Four Hours

A sunny day, with little breeze,

the sky is blue, no clouds around, 

I sit beneath the shady trees,

with fragrant flowers on the ground,

on days like this, I think of you,

and feel my wishes may come true.

A balmy calm, a restless night,

the moonlight fills my lonely room,

I long to join an owl in flight,

or buzzing insects on a bloom,

I pace the floorboards, certain of

the awful truth: I lost your love.

Yet, dawn awakes my hope again;

I step outside, refreshed by rain...

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry. He is Whispers Activity Features Editor.