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Glorious Sunday Morning

Upon this chill due dappled morning,
shivering into a wakened state.
I'm Stretched across this bed.
I long to huddle up
like to a new born babe.
But someone's got to make the coffee.
And there's only me to do it.
Therefore I must a rise,
and start this Sunday morn.
Tis brisk as I climb out of bed,
and one thought pervades my gloom.
If only I had a pair
of fur lined undershorts
to keep my Jublie's warm.

W. A. Mogollon

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