Good morning
A kind of high intensity light
Of the scorching sun white
And eyes in dry state tide
Trying to open in haziness
But as the laziness
Overpower the body logic
And seems lethargic
In every sense
Like a sense organ tense
Goining again to sleeps
If enthusiam not there it weeps
Finally it rejuvenate and open again keeps
With a new piece of thought light
And start its twilight
Categories:
sense organ, good morning,
Form: Rhyme