waking up late
light pushes itself inside the slits of the windows
the sky blue curtains filtering
the hues of
little rainbows
he rubs his eyes
discovering he was all alone
the whole night
there were dreams he could not remember anymore
he sets the curtains aside
opens the window
looks at the garden below
sees the birds feeding on some grains spread to the ground
he hears a song from his heart
a nice one now
and to please what has been disturbing him
a void, a thorny feeling, last night, or was it the other night
he compliments himself with
good morning world
thanks, i am still alive.
RIC S. BASTASA
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/good-morning-41/
