#WritcoPoemPrompt39
Changing seasons hark new beginnings,
Like the shoots of tender plants on a Spring morning...
the trees and bulrushes are yawning,
cause another dawn is unfolding......
A morning.....a day much golden.

The lonely screech of the owls evanescences
gone away are the fowls that perched on the fences,
they gone to get their daily crumbs and junkies
in the babes restless mouth hung mummies
to keep them away from giving their parents stresses.

The men of the town wake up to their unfinished task of the day before.
tis another day to work tiredlessly and sweat sore.
Another day to be most busy to the core,
to move from tables to tables from seven to four .
And by the time, they are closing , they are disturbed by unending calls.

© Abimbola TML