Searching for Peter Springer

As day's first light
slips asunder this room,
but a whispered promise of things yet to be,

I both hope and dread
you awaken soon,
As it inclines to linger along your curls.

Your opening eyes
then gaze unto me,
with one soft smile my heart helpless unfurls.

And outside the birds begin their soulful song,
of searching for Peter Springer.