Friday, May 23, 2008

Sometimes
a morning can be dismal
or heavy, or weepy woeful

Sometimes
a morning can be mundane
hard work and toil, work and toil

Sometimes
a morning can be a poem
a beautiful epiphany

Did the morning change?
Or was it me, I wonder
Sometimes

Or was it the spark, the fire
rebirth that made the difference, I wonder
Sometimes.

may 2007

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