The Day’s Routine
On a cold and chilly mornin’ as the day is just a bornin’, I stumble down the stairs and find my mug,
I pour the coffee, hot and black, take two slices from the stack, and a dollop of milk from the jug.
I stand and will myself to wake, and ponder just how much that I can take, as I brace myself to face another day.
There are challenges galore, and I wonder what’s in store, but I know I can handle it, come what may.
Through the window in the kitchen, I may here pause to mention, the early morning sun feebly creeps,
I see the dew drops glisten and as I close my eyes and listen, I hear birdsong that drives my heart to leap.
The day is new and bright, life abounding in my sight, and I feel the urge to get going and to start,
So I guzzle java down, taste the toast perfectly brown, and go outside once again to play my part.
And I revel in creation, with my heartfelt elation, I can’t help it but as I look all around,
I take joy in all I see, and little bit for me, a perfect day, beautiful, peaceful, and profound.
2 thoughts on "The Day’s Routine"
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The rhythm is catchy with this one. The slant rhyme with “kitchen” and “mention” is brilliant!
Great write.
The rhythm kind of reminds me of Edward Lear. 🤩 I like this very much!!