Nights that Never Leave

There are mornings that seep

Through my kitchen window

With a cold drizzle,

A yawning sleepyhead.

And there are mornings

That majestically enter

With the dewy anthem of chirping squirrels

And birds as guards of honour.

But there are mornings that come by

In hesitation, 

Refusing to bid the night's watch off,

And they are the most dreary.

For with them the night never leaves,

The sun never comes,

And the grey earth tosses and turns,

Jolts in the pangs of her jarring pain.