Awake too soon yet again and I sit on

my bed thoughtfully with my pencil

trying to be profoundly witty with words

reminiscent of my favorite writer, Mark Twain.


Instead, my early-morning one cup of

coffee brain can only manage to ramble

and skip across the surface of what

I’d really like to start the day with.


So full of thoughts already when the day

is in its infancy and yet my body is

too broken today to release this pent up

energy building like fireworks ready to light.


Crashing and booming onto paper will have to do

today whether it be written or art to get

me expended and my voice expressed.

I’m not Twain or Rembrandt, but I’m ALL of me today.
Image from wikimedia

2 thoughts on “Morning

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