7:30 A.M.
In the morning,
the sweet aroma
of Carnation
wafts
from the earth
of wine fed sleep. The unrelenting chimes
of a lone tweeter
that you can’t fail
to notice and yet-
you let him chime
all the while the kitchen, wasting
your treasured time. A bird of passage is waiting
outside, his radio is on, Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”
tends his patience. Now once more, you’ve to tip him
with generosity
and Carnation fills the day
with her spice-scented moral stories
of domesticities.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2009
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