Morning

When the morning bids goodbye and  

The day enters,  

I lose my strictness of the mind.  

I accept the passing of the morning, but  

My mind does not accept me.  

There is something misty about the morning  

Maybe it is just the light fog of the winter.  

I can see and think clearly through the mist.  

There is something soft about the morning;  

It freshens me unlike the day and the night.  

The day is too strict and the night is too blue  

To recall the trenches of life.    

By Sushant Thapa

From: Nepal

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