It's 8 am, I'm rolling out of bed, my hands rubbing my eyes;
I open the blinds in the bedroom and look into the skies.
Just finishing seven nights of 11/7, I'm returning to normal;
Reintroducing myself to the morning, dressed very informal.
Wearing pajama bottoms and shirtless, I welcome in a new day;
Looking into the bright morning sunshine on wonderful display.
Birds eating seeds in the yard, squirrels having a breakfast of acorn;
Nature dances before my eyes as I drink a cup of joe, reality adorn.
The dull drabness is washed away from sight by the morning sunshine;
As my reality is touched with a beauty that borders on the divine.
Another sip of hot coffee enters across my lips as I sit on the deck;
I wonder why I sometimes run into fantasy, instead of a reality check.
I breathe deeply the fresh morning air and then I relax in my chair;
After a week of topsy turvey night shift, my soul does need repair.
My coffee cup is now empty, the morning is alive within my very soul;
A smile crosses my face as I get up to go inside, now I feel whole.
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