Good Morning Goroka

Icy air suppressed by a thick furry quilt,

A morning that could not be awoken by the rising of the sun.

The only thing that awoke her dead-like ears attached to her warm-voluptuous body is the vulgar yet, high-pitched crow of the infamous rooster.

The short hand drove down whilst the long hand shot right up, oops… the wooden clock stroke 6am!

The crickets chip winded down gently as the gnashing river increased its volume.

Both eyelids rolled up from each other as if a garage door was gradually opening.

Finally, her jaws started to open leisurely whilst huffing in emotionless yet fresh air;

All the while stretching her resurrected body with arms touching the space above.

Her head crooked to the window as her hazel brown eyes excelled outdoor,

“Good morning Goroka,” Her pink lips whispered tenderly towards the lush environment she was mesmerized in.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Goroka is a place in my country Papua New Guinea. It is in the highlands region of PNG, therefore the certain context. It is like the country part of western civilization. The place I spend most my xmas... hence this poem!