Maybe The Morning

Maybe the morning
Doesn’t; it just doesn’t have to be
You rise a little softer on that day
Emerging from a cocoon for me to see
Winter blankets fall away like nebulae
Taller than is expected from a Belle
Not so confident at first light
The arching sun; the pillory of hell
Stretching in my threadbare shirt
A shake of your hips
When first the brew hits your lips
But I want to watch
As you take another vainglorious sip

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