The sun slides through a lonely window,
Tiptoeing quietly around the room,
Darkness slithers out for the time,
And the morning gives out a cuckoo cry.
We stretch and turn as sleep leaves
And dreams slip through fluttering eyes.
Alarms pierce into the morning’s cloak
And is followed by concrete cacophony.
Clouds chase around in the sky
As cars begin to chase around below.
Fresh red faces shine on roads
As they walk brisk to begin the day
A new morning, your heart soars
As water cascades down your back.
It’s a different day, you tell yourself
And stitch out the same pattern again.
April is blistering upon us, and the poet in everyone wakes up to the hot air. It’s NaPoWriMo you guys, National Poetry Writing Month!
This piece above is something I thought of on a lazy Sunday. Inspired from what, I cannot imagine. Reviews and comments are always welcome.
Cheers to mornings in the city.