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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