I sit
Wrapped in the occasional blanket,
Knees pressed to chest,
Staring out the window, savoring
Slow sips from the ambiguous mug
Of dawns’ emotional duality.

I have shown my admiration
With this timely rising,
Flavored nonetheless by a profound
Distaste for such an hour.
I am ever
A child of the night.

Hues of dawn outline buildings and trees,
Splashing golden highlights in colors unique.
The city drags itself from
Tangled bed-sheets.

Gathers speed.
Begins to live.

I watch and sip as the world is made anew.

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