Poetry 174: Every Morning 

Every Morning

At the start of summer
I would travel yonder
To a far away land
Where trees don’t grow on sand

Where flowers bloom and sway
And children dance all day   
Where rain tastes like honey
And the air smells so minty

Every morning you’d hear
A cock-a-doodle’s cheer
Everyday is a gift
Boats on river adrift

Clouds prancing like fairies
Taste like cotton candies
Butterflies flee and float
Over one tap-dancing goat

As night falls, the moon sings
A lullaby that brings
A sweet and tender happiness
Like a beautiful enchantress

Everyone goes to sleep
Not a pin drop, no meep
Not even singing cicadas
Express their silly manias

And when the moon gets tired
The morning star feels inspired
To spread wings of warmth and love
To touch it, one needs a glove

Every morning I’d wait
And count from one to eight
For a golden embrace
I remember I used to chase




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