Face the Morning
Mornings have a multitude of faces,
moods and/or dispositions
sunny she's a a good friend of mine
dancing in the sunlight
warm, without inhibition and free
no lingering in the chill
of disconnect, that's just me
early she crusts my eyes
reddened veins of pain
erupting in a darkened
state of grey
I squint, trying not to feel
and limp towards
another unwanted day
rain and cold each caress
the corners of my comfort
pulling me back under wraps
wishing me a wanton momentarily
lapse of reason as the season's change
sickness feigns, I dial that dreadful number
cross my eyes and fingers and lie
as I lay my head
back down gently
upon the warmth of your
Copyright © Ts Poetry | Year Posted 2019
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