“First Words”

The morning breaks,

A new day ensues,

I stir uneasily.

 

What is so different?

Not crowing, nor shrill ringing,

But plaintive cries,

Of Cat’s wailing.

 

On the white canvas I hack my way,

Letters blearily swirl around.

Not Hercules, more Atlas.

 

I shrug, and stumble.

 

 

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