before the sun

My burning eyes open far before the long winters night ends.  The sweet smell of baby’s breath on my forehead and yanking on my cheeks with fingernails sharp and long; this my alarm clock.  Despite the sound of slumbering all around me; I have to pry myself of out my cozy cocoon and hope that no one stirs while I creak across the wood floor.  Even the timer on my coffee pot has high hopes of a later rise, and I have to convince my finger to press the go button, to just submit.

But alas, the sun does rise. 

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And the day begins.

2 thoughts on “before the sun

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