Morning Poem by Teddy Wirunda

On my bedding,
West to East I roll.
For my eyes to be struck
By the golden rays
Of the rising sun.

My face can't resist
The warm caresses of
The wonderful rays of
The sun.

The silence that kept me asleep
Dies, and for its replacement,
Chirps! Melodious ones,
From small beautiful creatures,
Tickle my ears.

I can't withhold
The untold
Smile that gradually
Pulls my cheeks
Forcing a dimple in them.

My feet to the floor,
Preceding my knees,
Before the hands which fight
The air above me
Then, to my creator I speak.