This early morning… as in now! I recall my first ever lengthy poem. (Have I posted this before? Urghh!! Lamentable memory…):
As I rose up early, early at dawn,
Gazing sleepily, shadows at the lawn,
My heart suddenly was ripped and torn,
Between sleep or sight the beautiful morn.
The morning breeze was cool and fresh,
I shivered when it hits my skin and flesh,
At last, all agog I decided to jog,
Into the mystical, morning fog.
The fog slowly, surely, cleared away,
When the sun shone its earliest ray,
Noon will replace for morn won’t last,
But it’ll come back when night had passed.
And I no doubt! shall be in lust,
Enter the mist… that I must!
If not, I’ll be in distraction…
For I’m under the spell of morning’s attraction.
Hmm, wonder whether people still write poetry!?? … I mean the kind that doesn’t turn into a song. On an afterthought, maybe I should create music to accompany it. Heh! Heh!