The kind of morning where you wake up early and wonder if you've been under an eternal sleeping spell.
Joy it is to hit the bed and only unscramble yourself the day next.
Scratch my earlier complaints about sleep neglecting moi. No longer am I ignored, momentarily dying each night in the bewitching embrace of an ebbing day, marked by coal black skies and twinkling Milky Way.
Saying that I'm infested with a dreamless slumber would be putting it too tepid, for I am ravaged like a trespasser in the realms of night and forced to succumb to a most delicious doze.
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