The Cloudy Morning

Poetry

Photo by Ishan @seefromthesky on Unsplash

I get up, I stretch,
I open the blind,
“ — Wow, how cloudy!

Lying in bed, looking out the window reminded me of a white canvas. A canvas that gives me the freedom to express myself as I wish. Maybe someone wants to tell me that life is a white canvas, and we are the artists. Or maybe it was the morning fog that means nothing.

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I’m searching for something I don’t know, yet. Conect with me at Counter.Social: https://counter.social/@simaocunha

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Simão Cunha

Simão Cunha

I’m searching for something I don’t know, yet. Conect with me at Counter.Social: https://counter.social/@simaocunha

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