Eight In The Morning

It’s eight in the morning and i feel like doing a little writing,
Three hours have passed since the bed has been left in its present state,
Two hours since the darkness was broken by the first streak of light,
One hour since the coffee ran cold and the effect of the caffeine worn off;

Hey you – how have you been doing lately?
It’s been awhile and I hope you’re doing well; 

Do you remember the hours we spent sitting by the park benches breathing the fresh air?
Have you forgotten the afternoons when we sat playing with toys in the middle of the hall?
Can you recall the moments when we enjoyed an ice cream on a warm summer afternoon?
Will you keep in your memories the nights we spent staying up chatting and counting the twinkling stars?

Are you still there when I need you around?
Or are you just a fragment of my imagination,

Nowhere to be found? 


(just to make things a little more interesting, people who chance upon this post are welcome to guess what or who this scribble is about. I wouldn’t call it a poem because it simply isn’t up to scratch yet. Well please do personal message / text / facebook / some way some how tell me what you think. looking forward to hearing interesting answers!)


2 thoughts on “Eight In The Morning

  1. Could these words be for your favourite pair of shoes that gave in to the bullying of friction? The pair that has been through thick and thin with you yet abandoned, to be sandwiched between with piles of stinky rubbish, as you replaced it with a new found love. ( random thoughts hahaha )

    1. that’s a very interesting thought to be honest, you just made things so much cooler!

      your blog url doesn’t work, can you share your url with me again?

      Thank you for commenting as well, that is a scribble / poem worthy idea! Cheers

      Hope to hear more from you (:

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