Three Kinds of Morning

February 8, 2014 § 1 Comment

F1000031

In the morning the winter is trying hard to remember a bird song.

In the morning the world stands still and waits for us to jump on.

In the morning we eavesdrop our heart beating, our blood running, feel our breath over our lips. Our small planet in orbit.

In the morning we stretch our limbs to the places we want to travel to.

***

In the morning it’s our truths that wake us up.

In the morning his words, her hair, his hands, her smile and how the light erases them.

In the morning we know other people’s dreams.

***

In the morning we’re lost and found.

In the morning all the poems we’ve read are street names in the town we live.

In the morning we’re never lonely. We still have ourselves.

Advertisements

Tagged: ,

§ One Response to Three Kinds of Morning

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Three Kinds of Morning at I was not born in English.

meta

%d bloggers like this: