First Thing
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First Thing
The morning is quiet.
I have not yet gone outside.
I yawn inaudibly.
What will the day be like?
Will things be okay?
What should I do about?
What will happen if?
It all floods back at me.
A never ending onslaught of…
So many things I think about.
Only moments before,
peace.
Now?
Not!
I want to roll over.
I want to go back to bed.
I want to pull the covers over my head.
I want permission to stay where I am.
No one is going to give me that.
Not even me…
Work is calling.
One kind or another,
“it” knows the word or words,
used to bring me from my stupor.
Yet, I linger.
Do I have time to pray?
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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