Reception

When I first greet the day, it’s not a greeting at all

It’s a quiet stirring, an unwillingness to face the day, and overall

Quite rude

When I open my eyes i’m either faced with blinding rays of

Sunlight or the weeping thickness of a grey morning

Who has decided to be rude back

Now that our mutually agreed dislike has been settled

I give out my second greeting which is

Merely acknowledgment

Acknowledgment of my existence and the

Days’ reality which really sounds quite

Bleak if not for my third greeting which is one that

Blooms and blossoms in my chest

This time, I greet the day with a more agreeable

Response of awareness of the world and its existence

In the day and all the things that come with it so

Really, how can I not greet what brings me promises?

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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