Grumpy on Sundays,
He rises from sleeps.
Wary of movement,
Just stops.
And sneezes.
A good old stretch.
Yawn
Scratch
Snuggle
A night of slumber
Beckoning him back.
But bacon is calling,
Hot and fresh.
Filling his senses
With that sensuous smell.
A primitive yearning,
It overpowers his senses
As morning has broken
For man this day.
Photo sourced at Royalty Free Stock Photos
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