The sun came through the words good morning
breakfast wafted through the air into nose
Steam off coffee freshly buttered toast
morning sunlight ambling to six A.M
The edge of the day wants sweetly
to flow weather and time, to be complete
wanting to accompany you wherever you go
put it on like bedsheets, put it on like clothes
The dying moon studies me
It's funeral evapourates clouds
My path is clear so is my pace
quietness folded into space
Houses trees and entire cities pass by
Your eyes look them over still dry
Then rain comes, eyes cry
Midday sun comes, morning dies
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