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Touched
Sun passing through the curtains, no need to pull the light switch.
Cell phone ringing, coffee pouring, this must be morning.
Getting out of bed, walking towards the dresser, a shirt and pants await none the lesser.
Heading to the kitchen, reaching for the cabinets, a spoon or fork lays within.
But before breakfast is made, coffee is poured.
The sun’s light peeks through the shades
The rays, resembling sharp blades
Until the evening, never fades

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