The early morning light sifted through my lazy makeshift curtain
Half-assed and inappropriate, hungover from a night out with flashy shawls.
I don't want to be counting down the hours, whittling these fine days away
for them to resemble some spiky matchstick of sparking night and day imagery
Use this time well, its not a thing to kill
You're not hunting for pleasure, there are plenty of places to stop and view along the way.
Bed-dizzy and immobile I flick through reruns in my tv dinner brain
Nuked into some bid for nutrition, I'm scraping at the bigger picture
The door to the big plan that makes a life a home.
Wholesome, with a broad white grin
Successful and satisfied by the simple tide of nine to five
And then looking forward to the kiss at the door and late night fumble of affection.
Still itching for some hold of the constant
Still in bed reading somebody else's achievement
But the thaw is hinting, under the bedsheets.
The sun, conspiring, heating my pillow
I'm stirred into a humble action
Moved into seeing the potential of these slippy seconds
Harnessing the day, ready for harvest.
I'd accept this as the beginning again.