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I slowly open my eyes,
Which are still drooping from a long, restful night.
I roll over and look at the sunlight
Pouring in between the cracks in the blinds.
I stretch and softly yawn.
Next, I breathe; three long, slow, deep breaths.
Then I listen.
To all of the layers of sounds.
First, I hear the tick-tock of the metal clock,
Yet I feel frozen in time.
Another layer I hear, is the hissing of the air vent,
As it sings a good-morning song.
But my favorite layer to listen to
Is the most difficult to hear.
So, not moving, barely breathing I listen.
Until this beautiful sound rings in my ears.
The kind of ringing one can enjoy.
It is one of the most precious,
But forgotten things there could possibly be: