Gratitude's Laughter
The coffee spills- black rivers on the floor- and I, barefoot, just laugh. The morning yawns, its breath
still thick with yesterday's small wars. But here's the joke: the sun keeps climbing on, unfazed by burnt
toast, unpaid bills, my socks that vanished in the wash. The cat just stares, unimpressed by my chaos.
Tick-tick-tock, the clock mocks my rush. Yet - somehow - the air is sweet like stolen sugar.
Gratitude is sly.
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