waitin’ for mornin’

Now it’s 3 o’clock, on a Sunday morn
My soul is tired, and my head feels worn.
Wishing my sleep had not been shorn
to leave me sitting here in the gloamin’
,

But it’s o.k.  When I’m feeling forlorn-
I think of Christ, what for me, he has born,
And my family’s love, soon strength feels reborn.
So I can make it thru to the mornin’

—by Shard Halliday
Categories: Midnight musings, Poetry | Leave a comment

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