poetry, writing

Weariness

My eyes open slowly, fighting the new day.

I stumble from my slumber, struggling with my shirt and jogging pants.

I finally make it to the door, greeted by a cold rush of wind.

I must push onward. That goal is waiting at the end….and what a goal it is.

Days like today will be worth the push, I tell myself.

I see my breath in the crisp morning air.

Left foot, right foot, left foot.

Don’t give up.

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