Morning Ritual;Autumn
Outside the trees are called
by the Autumn’s breeze.
The door isn’t perfectly shut
as the leaves seep through
the uneven cracks.
The whistling tune from
Nature’s broken karaoke
machine finds its way under
the door. Slowly the shadows
become dimmer as the morning
sun sets in and the birds begin
to chirp as the crickets causes
a ruckus enough to wake
the subconscious mind from
sleeping internally.
The couch as always hard
as a stone bruising my arms
and legs as I flail finding rest,
but consistently remains
courteous as my only true
companion who knows
me and my heart, becoming
a good friend. The bells
chime, the cars honk,
the sounds of the people
marching to and from
their next destination.
As I step outside with
my messy hair, bad breath,
blurry vision, I take a glance
and the air greets me,
another daybreak awaits.
Copyright © Diana Morales | Year Posted 2025
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