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Rhythms

The birds outside
greet the morning
with a bickering
like tinkering bells

the sky is powder blue
and far too vibrant
to someone who hasn’t slept yet

but the hum of the heater is welcomed
like an old friend
and the feel of these keys
are familiar

they slow the churn of my thoughts
which race back and forth
and never seem
to let me rest

This poem is part of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo.) Yesterday’s prompt was to write a poem in which you very specifically describe something in terms of at least three of the five senses.

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njhasan

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