Morning
I have another life you know.
When everyone sleeps, I tiptoe
down the stairs so not to wake
my wife, the kids, a frog named Jake.
I bask in this quiet before the dawn.
its rich velvet presence coaxing me on
into depths I have not known
into places I am shown
I sit with tea, pen in hand
watching the sun bring the world again.
I write of love, this sacred life,
walking in woods, some recent strife.
For in the hours of morning calm
I'm seldom more open, more disarmed.
My soul can fly free as a bird
until the traffic sounds are heard
The world wakes up and so do I.
Time for work, but by and by
I savor most the time that's spent
In still of morn when I write, content.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.