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As morning steals over my supine body roused from slumber
I wake slowly, groggily as if in a trance
Shaking off threads of dreams that I somewhat remember
I shift in bed, coaxing my cramped limbs into wakeful surrender
Moving them in a random rhythmic dance
I groan at the sight of the golden sun spilling into my bed chamber
Its brilliance stings my eyes as I steal it a glance
I cover my eyes attempting to ward off the day that I know I fritter
I run my fingers through my hair that is askance
God! Why can I not awake each morning just a bit more chipper?
I struggle to clear mental cobwebs, to advance
Rubbing my hooded eyes into sleeplessness, donning a sweater
I descend the stairs in a stumbling stance.
Published here first.
Image via Pixabay
Sonal believes that life is a repertoire of anecdotes strung together in a colourful array,
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