Tuesday Morning

Today, you fall softly
On the multi-colored play mat.
You then gently push the guitar’s funny shadow
While your cousins dance erratically with the curtains

You let me read the pages
Of the author wanting to die in Paris on a rainy Thursday
I fight off a yawn
But you weigh tons on my eye lids.

poem by A.G. Bawang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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