Every day, I wake up at the stroke of 5
I open my eyes, and rise to greet the day
There is no joy or hate in my method
But a simple need to function and carry on
I allow movement through my limbs in the form of yoga
A quiet melody plays in the background
Bringing a splash of color to an otherwise grey canvas
The coffee maker bubbles
A warm cup of energy and desire awaits
The aroma has grown consu...