in morning.

  
The morning belongs to dreamers.

Who watch the world come alive

Through sleep-blurred eyes.

Before the doers wake

As dreams are born

In heaven’s promise and coffee’s warmth.

Hidden light plays with shapes

As lack of motion echos sound

Sky’s puzzled pieces shift and slide 

A dizzying dance

As wispy clouds whisper

Together. Then apart.

While doers still slumber

planets and stars glisten

as they shine on faith,

And hues of blues

Paint the day with promise

And with hope.

As bedroom lamps

blink on.

The world

awakens.

And dreams begin in morning’s light.

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