Monday, May 4, 2015

Poetry - Morning


In bed again,
Pillow propped up.
Hands cold from freezing sink water
Clinging, desperately catching
   The still-warm in the blankets.
Mouth stale and mucky
With the menthol of Listerine.
Crusty eyes that wish to close once again,
To gain back the dreams now lost
                     and forever so, even as
Reality floods out
 The night’s adventures                                         into non-existence.
The room's bright light
                            Seizes away the cozy darkness                                                              and throws it away.        
Outside the morning bird calls
Stabbing the air with its unwelcomed song.

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