Incandescent mornings.

Harsh reality comes in the form of incessant beeps.
beep
Beep
BEEP.
each time more aggresive.
each time I hate it more.
It also comes with the sun
slipping sliently into my room. Into my dreams. into my peace.
Breaking and entering. Not so charming now is it?


The sheets are unwilling to let me go.
Maybe it is the other way around?
Tangled in their protective grip.
I want to give in. Stay trapped.
Stay warm. It is too easy/
I could learn to live with the light pouring in.
I could throw the damn alarm against the wall.
I could stay if you would stay.
Reality, however harsh, never seems to bother you.
Illuminated, you stand in your bare feet.
Whistling.
I hate whistling.


The coffee is always cold.
This does not help.
The dog needs to be let out.
Think of the dog. Poor Puppy.

The tea is amiable. Liquid sunshine.
Good Morning Sunshine.

The alarm has been silenced.
I hear you whistling .
I love whistling. The perfect 'O' of your lips. Your dancing eyes.
The toaster clicks as if desperate to join in the serenade.
Toast. Oh, isn't butter divintiy? The smell is like a brilliant hug.

The sunlit morning is no longer cumbersome.
It is blithe. Intuitive. It senses how much I need it.
Nothing is so bad in the light.
The light of you.
The light of facing what needs facing.
The light of waking up to a new day.

Then again-
I could always get heavy drapes and toss the alarm clock?