In the morning I awake,
too tired to stay in bed,
going to keep the eyes open till ‘vening
running from here,
to there,
to anywhere.
just moving,
not tripping,
not dreaming,
simply moving to places,
where I want to be.
When I wake up, it is already day,
the rays are kept out.
Missing the sun going up,
in her same old ways.
Being a moving static,
I know how she feels,
as we dance around,
and she does not move.
Stuck in the static,
like my toys in the attic,
I swing my feet up,
over the edge.
leaving the warm, comfortable shed,
shocked by my feet,
who get hit cold, cold by the wooden floor,
underneath my bed.
Do I move to the shower,
or is it too late, to freshen me up,
and eat my breakfast at eight?
I am running late,
have decisions to make,
is it the fresh smell of soap,
or my stomach filled?
I vouch for the second,
to chat with my love and eat a few crumbs,
before the clock hits 8.35, and we have to leave
our warm cozy home.
Forgetting the morning,
once I have dinner,
to remember it again,
when I wake up.