I watch sunlight melt,
it darts between the trees
bringing dull leaves to life.
They shimmer and shine.
Sunshine washes fields and copses,
red poppies bob and sway,
daffodils billow this way and that
as daffodils will.
With my eyes half shut
beneath the golden glow
I can almost see fairies
They’re weaving gossamer
as spiders watch, bemused.
Delicate spiders with
They prance, elegantly,
but it’s just a painting
and as sunlight
my bedroom window
I recline on an unmade bed,
too sleepy with the morning
to bother to get up
and face the day.
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Comments about this poem (Morning by Ruth Walters )
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