Untitled Poem
Awake I hear the melodic chirps of birds,
Some sounds that I’ve never even heard.
I outstretch the wings floating upon the view,
Seeing the water droplets on leaves, called dew.
As I eat breakfast knowing I have bed hair,
The sun rises over the horizon, causing a flare.
What type of weather shall come this way?
Each morning brings forth a new outcome each day.
By: Rhonda Khut
(2013)
