Waiting For Another Morning!

They called it morning blues,
For me, they were appetizers, for the day ahead;
My days start with little starters, that
They called whimpers, being not able to recite
In the morning, unlike crows and cows
And they called it morning blues;
Sounds without sounds,
They are yawns!

Hard to believe though,
Like the music in the background
Shrieks, fire guzzlers and chants
In the morning, I seek words that sound wise
Profound words and lots of words
That explain yesterday night’s hangover, over
A fickle play called life!

In the morning, I hate to recite
No matter how disturbed I was yesterday night;
Shadows and all, so I need starters
But they still called by whimpers and
I continued to celebrate life;
No matter how fickle it’s shade are,
Quietly, waiting for another morning!