Yes, it's me, back from a largely unproductive half term holiday (on the writing front anyway xP) with another rather bad poem! Enjoy!
Morning
Morning dust
Sitting in windowsills, dancing
Through golden rays, so fleeting,
As fae-folk among cairns
At Samhain.
Languorous sleep, reluctantly, slowly,
Prises dreamy fingers from the eyes of sleepers
And takes her leave.
Doe eyes open.
Little pink tongue pokes out to sniff the morning air
And retreats, nipped and harried by cold.
A foot, a tousled head,
A mewling.
Kitten cries. Outside
Birdsong rising to tell the dozy sun
To shine.
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