Good Morning

Sleep ten hours makes the morning good

not mourning about anything…

yet

although 

sadness follows me like a stray dog,

this world

full of humans

confused by not seeing

clearly.

Enough of that! 

Time to get up

routine my way through time

nothing ever seems new anymore

except wrinkles on my skin,

the words I write who knows

where they come from?

Cosmic dust?

Many hits on my blog yesterday…

why and who are a mystery.

Will I wear a clean shirt?

Do I dare to eat a peach?

No mermaids in the mountains 

to sing to me, just

thunder and rain to tell me off

as usual.

I could write more now…

words are like a stream outside my window.

Rainy season the streams in town are full.

Equal beauty when the rain stops and the skies

are clear. 

Is a tree still beautiful if there’s no one to see it?

That’s a nagging question for some.

It’s like asking if there’s beauty in emptiness.

In my dream I know I don’t have an answer.