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Angela Timms

How to Wake Up

Sleepy eyes cracked open and muse over
The dust motes careening indifferently
In the morning shafts of light.

Battling the grey void of sleep,
Vaguely registering
That curious condition called
Consciousness.
The sighing pillow shrivels
And clings to the mattress
As the warmth flees
The empty room.

Letting the dog out,
The white glare shocks and awes
Like plunging headfirst into the black depths
Instead of the shallows swallowing you inch by inch

The pulsing water raining down
Is purely visceral;
The cells aligned and singing
Enraptured with absolution.

Veiled and unsullied,
The scent of a thousand nostalgic moments
Awakens your basic primal instinct
Urging you down the hall,

For that final and crucial step
Cappuccino and toast.

 
 

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