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Morning

April 10, 2019

 

I love the quietness of 

the morning.

The brisk air on my cheeks 

doesn’t quite sting, but it couldn’t be described 

pleasantly either. I look around,

birds greet me sweetly and 

ask me how I am.

Orange blossoms kiss my nose, 

gracing me with their perfume. 

The Sun is yawing as she 

slowly rises, groggily giving her warmth. 

The time of day

where many are resting their heads, 

having sweet dreams, but

I am awake and alive,

Ready for the new day.

I wrote this poem one morning around 7:30 am, as I walked towards the gym. I've always been a morning person; the birds chirping unforgivingly was something I've admired since grade school. Though this poem is short, I think it embodies my feelings as the sun rises. Even if you hate mornings, just try waking up around 7:00 one day, and pay attention to the sounds, the smells. I think waking up earlier can bring a lot of joy into someone's life. Or maybe it's just within the concept of being morning person. Or maybe it's just me. Either way, each morning is a fresh start, a new beginning. Treat it as such. 

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