Ditty

Standing diurnal with a book in my hand
Against the eight feet tall brick wall.
Wanting to eschew what I'd done months back.

All greeneries, understanding apotheosis,
The warm breeze being still and fresh,
Like they all are teching me that first notes.

I dawdled my hand, at that roof, to my eyes,
Swept some teardrops and them on that book.
It struck me sometime past that's why
I am writing this ditty.