The Morn Comes , Nonetheless.

A curious moon peeps
Through the bars of my window
While the neighborhood fitfully sleeps.
One more wink, just one more
Furrowing deeper into the coverlet
It is again off to the land of Nod.
The bloated moon makes eyes at me
Am I writing an ode to it?
It beams shyly, narcisstically
Blinking and winking
Then shamefacedly slinking away
When morning comes on cat feet.
The skeletal cat snoozing outside my room stretches itself
How dare the morning borrow its feet?
It sulks, no, it will not greet this don of a morn
Which robs it of its feet.

But the morn comes, nonetheless, feline greeting, or no
And lo! The October sky has changed hues
And the cat is once again greeting it with mews.
Look, the birds have started tweeting
I watch mesmerized as a sunbeam inches its way
Up a winding, narrow dimly lit stairway.
And the trees rejoice the birth of another new day .

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