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Early in the morning as the birds shake the sleep from
their wings. The smell of coffee fills the room reminding me of so many days that started the same. Through an open window a cold wind chills my bones. It cooled my forgotten coffee as I sit and write. Most of the time the words make sense. But there are times when words block the meaning of this poem. The loneliness is hidden under them. Kitty comes from the bedroom looking for her morning treat. She only comes when I cry milk, milk, milk. My how fast she laps it up. Still the words stumble as they try to say that something that makes this all worthwhile. Have I failed at this too? Enough of that talk else I end up in a pit of sadness. No great wisdom comes from these hands, only memories. It was long ago that I found my pain from a belt. It dripped then flowed. I close my eyes to try to erase this but the pain screams through. Where did all my joy go? Must I sit and know it has gone? No! I won't let it disappear. Down the hall comes a calm remembrance filling the room and lifting my soul. Once again I have beaten the pain back into the darkened room in my mind. Oh to have a key to lock it away forever. The smell of breakfast creeps into my study. My stomach growls. As I write I find emptiness in my words and I am sad. No rhyme is here, so I shed a tear. Slowly I am aware of the vain attempt to say what I mean. Leaning back I drift into a fitful sleep never to finish this thought. Dream on, dream on. Vote for this poem
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