Every New Day Seems So New

New day today, I could drag myself out…instead I stay. Wallowing in the newness, the rays of change. They melt the snow, the still seems so strange. I breathe in new air, new life, new hair. Ha, shave off that new part, open the word, get ready my heart. The new day consists of many small things. Beginning tasks, awaking from dreams. Groggy and clumsy I force open my eyes, still not ready to look at the light of the skies. But once its done and all is in sync, I sit in my chair and start releasing the ink–from the pen it flows and captures the thoughts. The feelings, emotions, the rivers, the oceans. They all start to flow. They grow and they grow. Until the light from the shades reminds me to blow—in and out, breathing you see. When you begin writing, even that isn’t easy. You pour out your soul and satisfy only yourself. No audience to clap, no books on the shelf. This is the new day, ripe to renew. Just waiting to wake, just waiting for you.


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