MORNING

nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

The dream that I
Awakened from
Still tugging
At my sleeve
Morning whisper
Personified
In dawns breath
A gentle breeze.

A coffee cup
A cigarette
The ritual
To start the day
The morning paper
Lands heavily
As if resentful
In a cold hallway.

A distant dog
Barks in echo
The buses wheels
Grunt and grind
In search of
Weary passengers
A quest to seek
And find.

Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

✔ Receive the ebook in seconds ✔ 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    Presented as a ritual each line reinforces this feeling of a cyclical repetition of actions in a never ending daily ritual like numbers on a clock face revisited regularly telling one where one is at during the day. Nice



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.