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Anjali Dhanekula

Grade: 12

Hathaway Brown School

Instructor: Scott Parsons

Morning

Poetry

Morning

You are the soft amber of a
Sun-soaked morning.

You wake, a glistening horizon,
A drop of sweat falling down your forehead
The warmest cup of coffee.

I would burn myself every day.

It is now morning.
I wait.
I listen for the sounds.
I hear them.
You never did like the crickets.

You didn't like my cold feet
And my grip
And my tangle of limbs and

The damp tendrils of hair
That stick closely to the sides of my face.
As I shift in the bed,
I reach over to the warm side,

But
You

Are not there.