Dear Morning

Dear Morning

As the sun began to shine through the window,
I felt my eyes burn like cyanide as I
awake from my slumber of sweet, pleasant dreams.
Dear morning, I hate your sunrise and bird cries.

You make me trudge and limp, a zombie with no limbs
as I attempt to wake with a hot shower.
If only you could use your heat to aid me
in my painful plight of starting a new day.

Dear morning, I don’t think I can ever love
your act of lighting the world. The bags that
reside under my eyes tell me to lie here
in my bed. That is, until I step outside

and breathe in the refreshing, tingling spring air
that tickles each follicle in my nostril
as if little robin feathers were doing
a fox trot in honor of the rising sun.

Dear morning, how I love your pleasant greetings
as I stand outside and accept your embrace.
Your pulse, the only sound that awakens all
the precious particles inside my body.

Your wind soothes my soul as purple plump petals
begin to dance the most elegant tango
moving swiftly to the wind keeping tempo
like young birds flying into the morning air.

The luscious land begins to shine anew in
vibrant, mesmerizing grasshopper green.
Life at its best, I start to walk into this
oasis lit by the golden glowing sun.


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