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"A Late Sunday Morning"

By Gunja Shah

On a late Sunday morning

There is dreaming to be dealt with,

A little house to be felt,

Carved by axes on broad shoulders,

Drops of sweat cascades down foreheads As lunch platters are placed,

Reminders of pleasures are in attendance, Often a murmur of hummingbird is heard

Maybe in harmony with Mother's brewing coffee and tea,

Wave of hot air after showers is a reminder that

It holds yesterday's transgressions between today's light so

Do not let it pass these dusty windows,

As you watch yourself in a mirror,

The spots that are so astonishingly there

You ponder on enjoying the seduction of inadequacy.

No care, no shame,

Just a humble craft in acceptance.

You wonder about finding mirror's and windows,

The one that shows spots and fogs or

The one that is yet to be felt.

You wonder if you are either to yourself.

By Gunja Shah

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