Morning Poem

[sheraqaw]

I woke early one morning
The earth lay cold and still
When suddenly a tiny bird
Perched on my windowsill,
He sang a song so lovely
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles
Began to slip away
He sang of far off places
Of laughter and of fun,
It seemed his very trilling,
Brought up the morning sun.
I stirred beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his little head.
I'm not a morning person.

Author Unknown