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Good Morning

It could be the annoying ring of your alarm
That divorces you and your beddings in the morning
Possibly it’s the first two streaks of sun rays,
Or the piercing cold touch of the morning breeze
Or maybe it’s the voice of your nagging wife
Screaming down the hall at the pretentious littluns
This way or that, smiling of groaning
You probably get up in the morning

Am not really sure whether you rise with the sun 
Or wait for the Morning Prayer bells to resound
Could be the irresistible breakfast aroma sailing in from the kitchen
For this reason or that, consciously or instinctively . . .

. . . you wouldn’t want to miss the songs of the little blue birds
The last twinkle of the morning stars
The fading smile of the crescent moon
The fresh green sparkle of the morning dew on newborn leafs
And the annoyingly sweet touch of the enthusiastic morning sun.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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