by Dillon Tinsley

Created on: May 23, 2008

MORNING
As the night grows old,
And the moon fades out,
The sun shines gold,
Red, orange, and stout.
Day breaks almost instantly,
Yet time slows unequivocally.

The bed grows warmer,
And the pillows call,
The air seems firmer,
And your head takes fall.
The smile approaches your mouth,
Yet your arms stay put down south.

Your eyes squint closed,
Groans and moans join your eyes,
The curtains have yet to expose,
Making the clock scream with cries.
Turning over to the five minute warning,
One must say hello to a wonderful morning.

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