The Joy That Comes At Morning

Sometimes I have this ache,
you know what I mean?
A hollowness, vacuum inside… 
that sucks out all of my joy,
hope and expectations.
Leaving me destitute,
naked,
alone, wondering…
Will it ever pass? 

It always does, but still…
when you’re in the midst of a funk,
the rain isn’t as soft,
the snow becomes sleet,
there isn’t a hint of a break in the clouds.
Yet, I know somewhere out there…
the sun shines…
children play in the soft rain and puddles,
and the melting sleet feeds the crocus.

So, oh well, let there be an ache,
given what I know will come and wait for,
the joy that comes at morning.