morning person – 0035

Sunlight greets my sleep

I wake to the sound of a familiar song playing from the kitchen

Tiredness leaves the singers name anonymous

And my brain alway a step or two behind the waves of lyrics that pour through the crack in the door

The morning doesn’t smell as fresh

The air is not as cold or sharp

Rather warm and soft

The birds are not as loud, they have passed the climax of their song

As if they are now easing the listener towards the closing notes with less precision as they think of their plans for the rest of the day

The morning symphony must end, to allow for a new rendition to call dawn forth tomorrow

The meeting of cutlery brings my attention back to the kitchen

Muffled voices appear through the reverb of cutlery and the radio

The scent of coffee, toast and jam have navigated their way to me

The unique concoction of smells that only breakfast can provide

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