GOOD MORNING POEM

GOOD MORNING POEM

I woke early one morning,
the earth lay cool and still,
when suddenly a tiny bird
perched on my window sill.

He sang a song so lovely,
so carefree and so gay,
that slowly all my troubles
began to slip away.

He sang of far off places,
of laughter and of fun,
it seemed his very trilling
brought up the morning sun.

I stirred beneath the covers,
crept slowly out of bed,
and gently shut the window
and crushed his 'wittle head.
I'm not a morning person!

ps I really am a morning person, but this was too cute to pass up.