Morning always seems to come too quickly. I lurch out of bed. Bathe. Dress. Hurtle myself out of the door and into the communal sprint for work. Traffic – not counting a few choice epithets – makes me pensive.
If you like tonight’s poem, why not show your love and leave a tip through the link below:
Tip for tonight’s poem
I really liked Brenda’s poem and want her to continue writing great poems.