Morning hours 

Creative

The sun shines gently on my skin 

While birds sing me about their past nights dreams. 

People in their thirties, forties, fifties and even sixties walk and run 

All up and down the river bank. 

The football courts are empty yet 

Because teenagers tend to sleep longer. 

My shadow,  long and slim 

Sitting on a bench while typing 

And remembering the past mornings 

That I have spent in places 

Very far from here. 

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