Running Mornings Poem by Mogare Nyamoko

Among the mornings
When up my eyes would crack open
And my wish to continue dreaming her ambushed,
Weak legs afraid to step down
The bed to cold floor,
Afraid to meet her in reality.

Waiting for the sun rays to fight fiercely
The grooming darkness of the night;
The arrows of dew aligned in readiness
For a battles against man and sun
Yet a blanket pull to my head,
A urge of one more dream about her,
I cannot ignore
The morning is running.