The morning

Is richer when

coffee is brewing

and the steam is

mixing with the

frosty windows

A little voice opens

the cash register “Ka-ching”

sells you a turtle from

your living room

and bonus surprise is

It’s a turtle baby inside

You give her cash but

she says her shop is free

and so you insist, I better pay

thee

How else is a shop gonna be?

The morning is yawning

with crusty eyes

that coffee doesn’t fix

tired sighs

but on a warm wash cloth

one relies

Good morning loves

the day’s a dove

cooing in the warmth,

apricity

winter lingers longer

making bird song

stronger,

Coffee. Water. Warmer,

Cinnamon for sure.

I’m hoping that the spacing turns out better than it did with my last post. I have written the poem in notepad and copy and pasted here. That changes the layout.