This morn
Is a poem by Self,
Cool and softly lighted,
As light glimmers through the clouds on float,
As on water flows a small boat,
As silence soothes a life,
As poem emerges out of a bird's free flight...
This morn
Is a waking up again,
Waking up to feel how life flows by breezy lane,
How eyes hold light of the morning sky,
How flowers wake up to get the dewy dye,
How one goes out of one's own,
How one gets submerged with the glorious Autumn,
This morn
Is like seeing feeling life,
This morn
Is taking a smooth ride,
Down the streets, through the moist air,
Taking in the coolness running through one's hair,
As runs a music perhaps in one's joyous ears,
As one wakes up to the gaiety land spread up like a misty layer.
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