Morning by Gabriel Curran

By Gabriel Curran

The unnatural waking state into the sound of cluttering plates
The pulling from the pillow into the weeping of the willow
The morning breath chill, the waking against your will
The 7:30am spill, of the coffee with no thrill
The removal from the dream into the madness of routine
The frost covered car and the barking dogs of Babylon
They want to keep us here forever until death do us part.

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