The Morning (day 415)

The morning fights into my eyes
Prying me from the warm cocoon
Of the flannel mother
And soaks me to my bone
Quickly cleaning
The soggy drops
Of left over residue
From the sleeping fairies

But as I stretch out the cobwebs
And look into the full sun’s shine
I realize how perfect it is
To refresh ones mind
With many hours
Of thought filled dreaming
For in the morning
When eyes are opened
I rise refreshed
To the sound of birds

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