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The Morning


by Johnny Dantonio


Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;

A song,
A lyric
of love.

But everything paled when prepared.
Everything failed so hard.




So I gathered what I could of my focus
and spun a something of truth,
crafted into this:

A pitiful poem;
a something,
nonetheless.

And everything I have at this hour is ours.
Every moment here curtseys to us.




When you get this I'll be sleeping;
I'll be without you
and nowhere near.

Some miles,
some months;
awhile.

But that really doesn't have much to do with much.
That really has no bearing on me.




There's nothing alive that can describe
the something I wanted to send you.
I insult it with words:

love,
friendship;
adoration.

But everything failed so hard
every word I have for you fails.
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