The Morning Was Late Poem by Ivona Sophia
The Morning Was Late
Rating: ★4.3
The morning was late.
I didn’t even have the time to rub my eyes
Already woken by the afternoon wind.
I’m running to you
By the damp edge of the day
Between the dew drops
I spill words from my sleeve
Like magicians pull pigeons
And you sip coffee and don’t even glance
At how the sky above us turns blue.
Monday, May 9, 2005
Topic(s) of this poem: running
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8/24/2026 3:41:33 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
beautiful.. what a joy you are, Ivona, Sx