« Pitter patter | [dandruff::main] | Two movies »

Morning
Days appear to pass quicker when days are filled to the brim. Every morning as I wake, shaking off the shroud of sleep, I feel the passing of all mornings — I half-crawl, half-fall out of bed, thinking that yesterday morning is pretty much the same, and tomorrow morning might well be too, except perhaps for the measure of sunshine through the window. Every morning as I wake, I feel a little older — not for the passing of all mornings, but for the growing awareness that each day I awake with the excitement and eagerness of youth. Posted by sniffles at March 27, 2003 08:49 AM