Morning poems

This morning is golden.

After venting all night
The sky smiles on me
And every tree reflects joy.

For this short time, I am truly myself –
Full of peace; alone.


This is a grey morning, and the rain is hard;
My eyes are colourless.

Everything in me is slower than usual.
I try to remember blue skies
And cannot.


This morning, and the one before
And the one before
Is heavy and unhopeful.

The sun has hidden itself from me
So I surround myself with walls.
It rains indoors.


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