Cup's in the coffee, face on the soap,
Keys on the fingers, poeming this write,
Cigaretting a smoke, questioning answers,
But, hey! It's a Morn Gooding!
Flooring the walk to the pot coffee,
Not catting on the step, birding to listens,
Owling at my look, crystal, shelfing on the sit,
But hey! It's a Morn Gooding!
Bedroom smoke full of air, up creeping Sun,
A.M.6, and it's here in cold!
Tree oak in the shadows, ground on the fog,
But hey! It's a Morn Gooding!
The escape did poem, open not eyes,
Hot is the coffee, sweet is sugar,
The made is bed, sleep goodbye!
Taley fairs making the in...
Is how you feel this? Are too you there?
World to my welcome!
I'll today sometime wake...meantime...
Morn Gooding! Ya'llses!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem