Morning's Lure

Dawn graces a pale lavender sky, weaving comfortingly with sunshine’s golden rays.

The bright light makes its way through the blinds in my room, under my pillow, and onto my eyelids.


Surely it isn’t time to greet the day.


Just a little more time, please?


I’m so comfortable.


My bed is warm, and my cat is curled peaceably on my stomach, paws tucked neatly under her chest.

Purring quietly, the only sound in the room is her soft rumble,

a smaller, more domestic version than that of her leonine cousins.

She dozes, safe and secure on a college student’s bed.


Like my cat, the majority of my neighborhood has yet to wake,

and in this moment of solitude, everything is peaceful.

I take a moment to admire the beauty of a world not quite active.


Sunlight begins to create a soft contrast across the dark green succulents in their mason jars,

slowly making a row of shining glass resting upon the windowsill, the plants now happily basking in the warm rays of dawn.


The chirping of birds sounds outside my window, mothers eagerly calling their little ones out for breakfast.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry, children!” a robin chides her chicks, “those worms will hide away in the dirt if we wait too long!”


“Chirp! Chirp! chirp!”


If the birds are already up and about, I should be too.


I shuffle slightly, in an attempt to dislodge the content ball of orange and white fur determined to stay asleep upon me.

A mewl of protest as I lift her off, and to the ground.


I stretch, a leisurely extension of my tall frame, and I begin to hear noises of the neighborhood coming to life around me: the opening of doors from the houses all around mine, the start of a lawnmower, and the shouts of children and parents alike, going to the bus stop, and getting ready for school, much like myself.

How lovely are these small, quiet moments in the early morning!

The calm, peaceful place that exists just before the world noisily awakens is so short.


Its marvelous, momentary existence  motivates me to see it as much as possible, as many times as I can,

before the day continues, people continue with their lives, and we




This poem is about: 



Written for a scholarship contest- ideas courtesy of my terrible sleep schedule.

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741