Halsho Zangana (27-Jan-1994 / Kurdistan - Sulaimani)
The Mood Of My Mornings
I get lazy when a dream of you is being delivered
to me, I find awakening a difficult task,
as I see you in the vision,
bringing a flood of fire,
you leave nothing more to ask.
In a place where the weak sun
lightens enough to see your face,
I find my hands with thousand fingers
insufficient to get your grace.
Before I touch you, I get bounded
by dawn dragging me back to another age.
No touch, no kiss, Alas! no more you!
and my day begins, disappointed, In an awful mood.
Comments about this poem (The Mood Of My Mornings by Halsho Zangana )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley