The sun's rays creep
across my hands
dancing their way
into my veins
"Good morning" they whisper
to the wind
which is still wearing
an icy glove - woven
in the darkness of midnight -
as it ran cold fingers
across my face
I breathe deep
drawing the cold air
into my hungry lungs
and balance on
the cracked lips of morning
I drink deeply
of the day break
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