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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