Morning Hours
by Jason Motsch
The morning hours...Waking up to gentle voices,
one next to me and another
delicately stepping out of my speakers.
Trucks and cars pass by outside.
I haven't looked at the birds yet.
Tender little things.
They are such a delight.
This is a simple poem that some would
just call thoughts on paper.
Anything can be a poem
just as anything can be art.
"Beauty lies in the eye...of another's dream"
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