Morning - Poem by RIC BASTASA

early morning the house is as silent
as a feather falling
on the floor

the cat wakes up and checks
what it is

it is like him, silent as a cat
silent as his master
not wanting to wake up

no one boils the water
to make a smell of coffee in the air
time drags like a snail
convoluted like some thoughts
like Hamlet's
to be or
not to be

it happens most of the time
fate resolves itself

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010

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