Mornings

  When I wake to greet a day,

 the morning sun creeping in

  pours light upon my tired face.

 First in line, thoughts of you

  before I’ve touched a toe

 to the floor beyond my bed.

  Loneliness envelops me,

 every fiber of my being

  is crippled by my memories.

 Rapidly getting suppressed,

  feelings being swallowed back,

 I rise to take my steps.

  Simple things that meant nothing

  a challenge they’ve become.

 Coffee is, ironically,

  poetically bittersweet.

  I sit now alone, sipping,

 as sport clips flash across

  a muted television screen.

 Deep in thought on how

  forgetting you may be a choice

 I haven’t the luxury to make.

Author's Note

2011

Reviews

[Lorry]

Mornings are the reset buttons of the day, but like every remote control known to man, woman and child, they do have a tendency to stick on certain buttons and perhaps that is why we realise how incomprehensible sport is on a muted to, as our thoughts join in and stick on our most oft thoughts as our day begins in mournful silence of bitter-sweet thoughts from our past that follow us into each new day.

[Curly Grace]

Thank you for this thoughtful reflection.
I’m glad the piece stirred something familiar for you.

[Brandon Houser]

Great job in painting a picture of a cold and quiet space. Bittersweet indeed. But still great! Thanks for sharing!

[Buddhistboy73]

You do a fine job of sharing the emotional impact of facing the morning grind....:)

These are my favourite lines:

Simple things that meant nothing
a challenge they’ve become.
Coffee is, ironically,
poetically bittersweet.

Thanks for sharing...

BB73

[Curly Grace]

Thank you for this.
I’m glad those lines resonated with you.