Saturday Morning

Sun hides behind dense clouds,
As the birds fly off their nests.
A satisfying wind blows,
And asks me to breathe.

I sit and write a poetry,
While rest of the world sleeps.
Sleeps hungover in their abodes.
But I have found my bliss today.

I can clearly tell it is a happy day.
For my dog is wagging its tail
All around the house.
And the father is whistling
Beautiful songs of joy.

Let many such days come,
Because these are the days
That keep me going.
These are the days hope crawls in,
right through my backdoor.

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