prayer, unromantic

his voice called me from my slumber, and I was not as romantic about the whole thing, which was in of itself perhaps, a sort of prayer.

for twelve hours I drooled and I snoozed, cozy in final rest. I mean not the final rest, but finally I rested, and awoke pre-dawn to the most clear and mesmerizing voice calling all to prayer, except me technically, and yet it called to me, a prayer. the next morning, his voice called me from my slumber, and I was not as romantic about the whole thing, which was in of itself perhaps, a sort of prayer.

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