What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring
Realize we’re all a little vain
Or we’d never get dressed in the morning
Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds
Offering a compassionate ear
The clues exist once you pull back the rind
Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat
Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman
The peculiarities of each soul; I take note
Wet Sunday mornings
Grass still damp from the rain
Fresh air still cool to the touch
Rising without a hint of pain
Voluptuary visions upon a treasured bond
Hoping we might become bosom buddies
Remotely fond of the Bon Vivant’s taste
When I proposed to you in the study
My parochial quips; unacceptable in polite society
Profane & unprintable odes to her formidable posterior
Writing what catches my mind’s eye
I can’t help it if my motives might be ulterior
Vice & folly are complimentary rectitudes
But please stop staring at the lady’s chest
There’s only so much to explain away
& no one cares the origin of your Preppy crest
Tell me what constitutes good head
With my mind clinging to her curves
These dreams; had their own Silicone Valley
Yet, when she speaks I’m a pile of nerves
Boxing Day is the day for cunninglingus
Cauliflower ear from her thighs
Witnessing nature’s perfect curvature
Nonperishable lust eschews the dandy’s lie
Vanity is fundamentally unstable
Draping you in silks & laces so gaudy
New souls full of an easy virtue
Just know, how badly I want your bawdy
Late nights blend into early mornings
Up with the weirdos on the street
Seeing visions where the shadows were
My mind tripping; my instincts in retreat
All the sand has fallen from the hourglass
Dangerous curves when I’m confused
Punching time clocks when I should slumber
Paycheck feels light/ feel like I’m being used
Leaving my underwear in the middle of the floor
I need more, but its high time for bed
To sleep, to dream; an impossible task
Passing ships with everything left unsaid
Time isn’t what it once was
No longer a never-ending resource
Now I feel the aches & pains
Groggy; consuming the steaming life-force
Wiping the startled sleep from my eyes
The attempts at a structured morning
Lost a step; hard to think these days
Age comes with little to no warning
The floorboards weren’t so cold this morning
Days grow longer, you can sense it in the air
Constellations shifting in the early sky
Brewing coffee pitch black to see if my pulse is still there
Waking to see the American Dream broken
But that’s only if you ever believed it was real
For now I’m going to enjoy this cup while it’s warm
& bask in this Springtime while I can still feel
Starting the morning in the big chair
Listening to train sounds on the record
From dad’s vintage vault
Drinking black coffee
Looking out the window
At the silence down the street
What shall we make of this day?
Waking up to exposed sunshine
I find myself easily seduced
Once I tried become a Stoic
But with my heart, it’s no use
I’m a hopeless romantic
But I try not to let anyone know
In this disheveled morning
I’ll have another merlot
A fresh morning in a shabby hotel
Sunshine pouring through open drapes
Heavy, yet obviously threadbare
Blinded; only seeing abstract shapes
Sitting on the edge with a warm mug
Need to move, but my legs won’t go
A few more moments in this peace
Hell begins once I’ve finished this cup of joe
Rainy days along the intercoastal
Long mornings lead to stressful nights
The last cold hours before Spring
Reading quickly by the escaping light
Smelling of lukewarm coffee & disillusion
Rough mornings coming from too little sleep
Nightmares of our mutual defaulted dreams
Yet you weren’t rumored to be that deep
Stagnant when we were supposed to be more
Odd vibrations upon the last & final pew
Still looking for Her among mismatched notes
But she can make old poems smell brand new
Intense.
Uncontrollably shake your foot
Another morning wide awake
Experience as black as soot
We can only be who we are
No sense living in the past tense
These are the ramifications
Blinded to your own suspense
I know who we once were
Though they are now gone
Not victim to anything
Excuses made you the pawn
Shed these moments of hate
Bringing you down another level
Dreams of agony by default
Embraced, but slightly disheveled
Regroup at the breakfast table
Another chance to forever adjust
Calming thoughts to carry through
After all, we’re merely cosmic dust
I do not have the weight of fading beauty
I was never handed that cross to bear
I will dissipate into the darkness
With few knowing I’m no longer there
But she feels the pain of time
Thinking a curse as we continue to age
The anguish of remaining alive
Yet each new dawn is another blank page
Standing in line for a morning cup
After a pot or two, I’ll be content
But you’re holding up progress
Your specialty is causing me to resent
My anger is slow to rise
But the barista is soaking in your beauty
The rest of us are dying of fatigue & thirst
All the while methinks you’re a bit too snooty
Awake early in the naked, teal morning
Still wet from dancing in the rain
My subconscious kissing her femininity
But the memories remain love-stained
Her fingers gripping my shoulders
Our souls constantly trying to absorb
Soft, low moans quietly evident
I’m enchanted by her fleshy orbs
We’re exposed in the light of dawn
A realness that won’t be concealed
We have a glow of our own
No words exist, but a truth she can feel
There’s war out here in these streets
The physical city pulses & seethes
Tamped down by hate of denizens
Facts challenging all that we believe
All of society calling for our attention
While our infrastructure remains unstable
Tragedy & crisis revealed every morning
But I still need to put food on the table
The glories of a sunny morning
Smiling into my coffee; subtle credo
Trying to create my masterpiece
But, I’m distracted by my libido
Looking for my stunning bride
Maybe get a little taste under her skirt
A surefire way to get artistic juices flowing
Interest shifted; she can only help, never hurt
Collecting fresh faced girls with monogrammed asses
Spending the morning listening to the Blues
An old soul within that youthful mindframe
Toe tapping, blackout shades & misleading tattoos
I begin to think I’m the one lured
But all we have between us is coffee stained mug rings
Embrace the possibilities of the moment
Join in the beauty of desperate sorrow of BB King
This day is such a sunny tease
Through passion, we become another bedpost notch
A memory Today will keep for all posterity
As she makes me taste the glories of her vagazzeled crotch
Running from street lamp to street lamp
Creating worlds before the sun is born
I don’t sleep as well as I should
Out, wandering with my thoughts this morn
No need to remind me of my missteps
I remember every time I came up short
Angst & anxiety locked in perpetual duel
To discover who gets the final retort
Mornings creak abruptly open
With the mind beginning to spool
We’re out here prayin’ & hopin’
That I won’t always be a damn fool
The promise of a new day can look glib
But I believe this soul can still be smitten
Look to the potential of a fresh nib
I know the best notes are always handwritten
Discarded waves of soft dreams
Mislabeled by errant letter placement
Leaving bookmarks for posterity
Undue reams of self-abasement
Lighting dry wicks by morning
That sadness- we might alleviate
Exploring incantations in words
For a soul’s thirst to invigorate
Pushing away the storms
Embracing hope of the day
Devouring of beloved forms
To keep our fears at bay
Morning has a profound notion
To remain huddled in bed
Perpetual passionate motions
Sustained until we’re both dead
Image by Daniel Nebreda from Pixabay
A pitch black morning
Lightning out in the stratosphere
Sharpening thy tongue
Sunrise the only thing we fear
Deflecting unwanted attention
Desiring space, but not too much
Pulling love from the cosmos
Daybreak; yet further out of touch
The morning scramble
Make sure you perfectly primp
But until the first cup of joe
My mind continued to limp
Emerging from the cool waters
Morning swim to ease my mind
My soul’s been hacked
I needed an escape to unwind
Society is advancing
But merely on the people’s rights
Media’s a crooked lapdog
We’re doomed if we refuse to unite
It was a one-eyed kind of morn
With evening’s festivities going awry
I scrawled out all I could remember
Once a gentleman, turned drunken guy
Slight images of a lovely form
Olfactory sparks upon my brain
Sketching the party’s guest list
But no new faces could remain
Racking my skull for a proper memory
Writing down every & each detail
Compiling a list to rediscover
I’m trying to think, but it’s to no avail
A faceless gown with affectionate gloves
Somehow my mind is able to recall
Cognitive fragments begin to linger
Clouded out by last night’s alcohol
Scenes slowly begin to return
I believe we’re out on the dance floor
An embrace of smoldering desire
Yet I couldn’t figure out any more
Scraps of notes spread before me
No identity to place upon the truth
Scant reason to be shy in my search
Basking in honesty of my lapsed youth
Cobwebs have been sparsely lifted
Won’t think of her in the past tense
Her ghostly touch encourages me yet
We shall meet again, I firmly sense
To hold her with determined spirit
Seems fantastical at this sad rate
Yet she’s left fingerprints upon me
Remaining until I succumb to my fate
The carcasses of inspiration
Wine glasses with Burgundy residue
Speaking to late nights & early mornings
Scribbles in the margin on the follow through
Feeling parched as I wake
Noticing your lipstick stains
Upon the rim of the glass
Reminding me of the dreams that remain
Bleary eyed, drinking the coffee grounds
Searching for a fate within the dregs
Fumbling over these typewriter keys
Lightheaded when I see your naked legs
Your smile is a distraction
But you pop a button & then one more
I’m at your complete mercy
Once the nightgown hits the floor
Image by TastyCinnamonn from Pixabay
Aroused by the typewriter’s bell
I’m salivating like Pavlov’s dog
Imagining caffeinated mornings
Walking the Sunset within the fog
Though those were forgotten emotions
I’m not able to repeat that form
So I do my best to feel the original
Sometimes I’m hard to notice before the storm
Good morning, Beautiful
I’ve brought some coffee to share
Bathe me in your deep caresses
Make me abandon my laissez faire
Intentions have never been pure
I exist in complicated ways
I believe in healthy love & lust
& setting fire to our communiques
I like how it sounds
To have something laced
Even though it’s killing me
Finding refuge in my dreams
Traipsing through Baudelaire’s flowers
I sing a silent dirge to my soul
Tracing her petals within Summer’s shower
Caught in the currents of missteps
Former words no longer voiced
Lightness of a delicate vision
We heard the morning’s rain rejoice
Politely declining a dreadful umbrella
Walking out, always been man enough to weep
Soaked; tears all the way through
Drowning; maybe now the sunset will let me sleep
Stretching up & yawning
A lazy morning not to compete
My mind has been overloaded
Time for those files to delete
Our souls are priceless
So why do we always sell, sell, sell
This morning I’m choosing to dwell within
& the secrets I find I’ll never tell
It’s a stale morning
The humidity will come later for sure
But that’s not what I want from life
We need a cool breeze fresh & pure
A careful morning
Coffee, my steady muse
Hiding in crisp pajamas
Inspiration has a short fuse
Brushing the record as it goes ‘round
Morning comes faster when you can’t sleep
Sipping the tepid coffee down to the grounds
Delirious; mind wandering depths so deep
Trying to move your body; needing a gentle stretch
What more to be done when you can’t think
Misinterpreting grumpiness for ravings of a wretch
Settle down; give me a moment for another drink

Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock
Watching the paper soak up errant coffee
Spillage; correcting the bland, empty page
Blocked before you wasted the elixir of life
Words summoned now like a pensive sage
Freely letting loose a volley of images
We are released to our new mode of narration
Blinded aesthetics on a crisp winter morning
Forever allowed to remain alive in short bursts of inspiration
Let me get out into the world
While everyone else is still in bed
Let me move these old bones
I need to get fresh air into my head
Too many stagnant mornings
With nothing to show for the exertion
Feeling low in my spirits
Like I’m a soul still prone to desertion
I need to discover a permanent solution
To rid my life of heartbreak & pain
I don’t want to struggle anymore
Results from my effort & not simply remain
I search for hope in the early morning
Trying to find truth before first light
Without the influence of assholes
Perpetually kept themselves in the right
This absurdity of life
Fallen into realms beyond our thought
But still we shine on for the future
This isn’t who we are; let us believe not
We can change the status of time
& act not out of debilitating fear
That we might find a way to be better
Cast out hate & return to being sincere
Scratching your soul upon the page
Following the seams beyond the thread
I don’t have the caffeinated gumption
So I’ll have to return to bed instead
Wandering through woven stories in my mind
Nib to paper is the only way I can meditate
Urgency of thought keeps me from sleep
Back to brewing; morning’s way to self-medicate
Where do we leave our footprints
Do we even want to remember this
Slow mornings on the Intercoastal
With our hearts set to reminisce
Warm weather again on the rise
Let us both be proper & civil
Though still demanding the truth
For it’s out there in spite of this drivel
Lounging early in the morning
She wore an animal print I couldn’t recall
I poured another cup to erase the cobwebs
A chilly morning; slipping past Fall
She was sleek & beautiful, a deadly shade
Overly dramatic in the best possible sense
Passion in abundance for my sole benefit
Edging to a climax at our soul’s expense
You don’t see it
The boys not getting enough sleep
Those who have abandoned their homes
Keeping watch over the watery deep
You don’t see it
Those who dream of something better
Youth sacrificing blindly
Riding the tide, salt spray getting wetter
You don’t see it
Loading sea bags in early morning hours
Walking the gangplank in the face of fear
Trusting their lives to a Greater Power
Morningtime mists
Coaxing life to grow
Necessary if not bothersome
A nuisance we all know
Nature weeping
The wildflowers implore
Though my garden
Is thirsty for more
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Mornings naturally rise
Catching sunshine in my eyes
Distracted by the obvious glare
Misdirected like you really cared
Left feeling a bit obtuse
Never in pity, what’s the use
Taking a moment to feel low
Then return to what we all know
Be smarter, don’t get deceived again
Or merely rewrite it all with your pen
At this point, there are no rules
Ignore their taunts, the damn fools
Karma will get them in the end
52nd layer of hell is for fake friends
We are here to be free
Rise; for it is time to wake
Walk tall among your fellow man
Fill your soul with love for its own sake
Do not pluck flowers any longer
For it merely condemns them to die
Uplift all creation; we’re here as one
Carry hope with you in the morning sky
I went for a walk in the predawn hours
I could feel something wasn’t quite right
’Twas a red sky morning/sailor take warning
Amiss; something’s gone bump in the night
There was a time I went walking in the woods
Fatigued; this existence has become too tense
It was there I encountered the damned zombies
They stole my peace along with my sensibility & sense
Now, I don’t do much walking outside of the wire
If I must, I seek protection from my Heavenly Lord
I never fail to bring along a prayer upon my lips
& in my hand the weight & might of the Wu-Tang sword
*found this graffiti in Wilhelmshaven, Germany in 2017
The sun entering the bedroom
She tasted like natural ginger root
Satisfied before she began her day
A short skirt & high heeled boots
A perfect way to leave her
A lovely morning with such a sight
I watched her until I couldn’t see
Everyone should be so lucky at first light
Morning is everything
Coming down to hope
Surviving the trials of night
Finding the means to cope
Looking for a new sunshine
Eclipses as the morning grows
Coffee slowly loses its warmth
The way only the fatigued might know
Sleepless nights convort to visions
Dreams well placed into our eyes
Caffeine not enough to shake souls
Waking to these cotton candy skies
Spinning my empty cup on the table
Attempts at any fully formed thought
My mind completely wiped clean
I spy my woman’s naked form; damn she’s hot!
I don’t really have an answer, Ma’am
I’m struggling to survive, just like you
A little poetry, doused with morning coffee
I hope to find the strength to make it through
Erratic rumblings first thing in the morning
Thoughts all aglow from castiron candlesticks
Sunrise hasn’t interrupted my intercession
Another cup of coffee might ease my ticks
After watching too many hectic movie scenes
A set of expectations upon our furrowed brow
But I need to recede into my own soul
Let us return to existing in the here & now
You’re happiest when spooning a salted bourbon
& I’m certainly not one to overtly judge
But I’m at a crossroads in this life
From that woman; my heart defiantly won’t budge
Perfectly lined rows of trees
Our escape from the mundane
Shaking away tilted visions
Of a ghostly morning train
Remembering her latent beauty
No place for such fickle motions
Return to living your current life
Set gently against the Atlantic Ocean
Another tepid morning, waiting silently
Dawn yet to break, but my head feels that way
These dog days lapse like a bit of purgatory
Standing before St. Patrick with nothing to say
Teetering & more than slightly confused
Checking my watch; praying its not too late
Did my heart stop? How did I go so astray
Jolted back- the Almighty’s nectar begins to percolate
Summer mornings; rising without the alarm
Open the windows while we’re still in the shade
God’s fresh air can’t do any lasting harm
Yet, snuggle up close; no sense in letting this warmth fade
The illustrious words of Hunter (the elder)
We ante’d more than our parents’ share
Broken cups of mottled modeling clay
Abstinence leaving you lonely & bare
Chanting Yeats without a voice
A rye smile at the lively night’s end
Cocktail girls when only a wife will do
Looking to the heavens to make amends
Time is failing on a tractional level
Bleak mornings to come calling back
Needing to move without giving notice
Resurrection only possible with coffee this black
Pushing away the storms
Embracing hope of the day
Devouring of beloved forms
To keep our fears at bay
Morning has a profound notion
To remain huddled in bed
Perpetual passionate motions
Sustained until we’re both dead
Image by Daniel Nebreda from Pixabay
Our fragile egos remain outright
Yet still free – not compelled by those
In the trenches we find disaster
Inspired to richly & sullenly compose
How do we heal? How do we grow?
Absorbing vibrations & her headspace blues
Redefinition of cool among the vulnerable
Rising morale since she turned off the news
Erratic dreams of dismantling love
The early signposts to the apocalypse
Gentle rise becomes glaring to our eyes
Summer mornings feel fresh on our nips
Ground control to juxtaposed fallacies
Squandering purest moments we’ll know
With no intention to rattle a dull saber
Paradise; when I only wanted a cup of joe
It’s a stale morning
The humidity will come later for sure
This is not what I want from life
We need a cool breeze fresh & pure
Emerging from the night of lost souls
A rough morning with make-up in your eyes
Playing with fire when you dressed like Hell
You believed the Devil when he whispered his lies
Another exhilarating night of sin extinguished
But your heart now belongs to the man of flames
You don’t remember how your dress got burnt
Or how your lovely chest was branded with his name
Image by Анастасия Гепп from Pixabay
Dancin’ on the dew drops
Behind the magic of the unseen
Lettin’ the sun shine through
Another morning light & serene
Duck & dive past negativity
Run free; barefoot on the grass
Soak up all of nature’s joy
I’m gonna go pinch my woman on the ass
Image by Olichel Adamovich from Pixabay
I often catch myself
Glancing up at your windowpane
Occasionally seeing a silhouette
Memories of youth still remain
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing on
But I couldn’t know for certain
The morning light not quite seen
I might feel like a common creeper
Alternate lifetimes in my mind
Yet I know you’d still be a keeper
I see your beautiful soul hiding
That passionate soul now a mere outline
Locked away in your precious life
I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’
Possibly spying a lacy chemise
But now you’re wearing the curtains
Or maybe there was nothing
But I couldn’t know for certain
I see boundaries in your thought
I’m not intending to be rude
You can make your own decisions
I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude
You’re the princess in your castle
Not a figment of my invention
Locked eyes before you look away
Somehow grateful for the attention
Unfolding broken dreams
The distant & diluted flow
Our hopeless choices astound
The truth? We still don’t know
But we can never give up
Clinging to the last of our visions
Memories cultivated on dark nights
Leaving us exposed with obvious incisions
How do you translate a morning
When your soul bears undiagnosed pain
Scars from a life well lived
For in the end, disillusioned cannot remain
Touched by the whim of God
Revolutions in the unlikeliest of places
Tasting the perfect tilt to her hips
My benign lunacy comes in traces
Diluted measurements by midmorning
With inconvenient virtues & unholy glee
Bringing small obsessions in my mind
When the local widows invite me for tea
Entering only after a courteous introduction
No need to intrude on our nebulous beliefs
A shared sacrilege when I watch her curtsey
Dropping to our knees; praying for some relief
Disquieted moments in the afternoon
These Springtime rays have a golden hour
Reflecting youth into my weary eyes
The reassuring notion of dreampower
Yet gone are the mornings we woke afresh
Our mortal flesh reeling down on Earth
Life; the thorn in the side of this existence
Internal fire requires our souls a wider berth
The slings & arrows shall never fully hinder
For love always eventually finds a way
Darkness cannot extinguish the sun
This truth discovered by the piercing light of day
An innocent looking soul
Draped with an ethereal gown
Confident strides across the patio
With Eve’s revenge
Crisp air – like the first bite of a green apple
Obscured; knowing her nectar to be my cure
I watch her bosom swell
It’s not objectivization
For I worship her
Refreshed in waves
This transparent Victorian hypocrisy
Knowing all that ails
& an unseen wound
Yet morning crests
Pale orange sky forces it’s way through space
In the arms of naked trees
I’m celebrating femininity
Spring’s arrival in a sundress
As she teases me with breathless recitals
Our love not by design
But still goes well with NorCal wine
Trying out stories in the morning
Typing away on this ol’ machine
Thinking of something different
A genius the world’s never seen
But I can’t think of anything great
I guess I’ll get more coffee instead
I hear a whistle from my lady
I guess my love needs me back in bed
A woman not marked, boiled in thought
Slowly escaping melancholy with each sip
Sitting, staring out her kitchen window
Contentious dreams emitted from parted lips
Coffee can stimulate a bored mind
The house to be prepared for a festive banquet
A morose morning, lingering in the cool air
Providing a bounty for the Heavenly set
I’m just trying to live my life
Extending some gratitude along the way
Showing the people how I can love
For we never know when it’ll be our last day
I don’t always wake up with a smile
But it’s always easier if I somehow do
Grabbing black coffee & my woman’s ass
Together with a grin; I’m gonna make it through
Image by <a href=”https://pixabay.com/users/Free-Photos-242387/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=690174″>Free-Photos</a> from <a href=”https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=690174″>Pixabay</a>
Maybe the morning
Doesn’t; it just doesn’t have to be
You rise a little softer on that day
Emerging from a cocoon for me to see
Winter blankets fall away like nebulae
Taller than is expected from a Belle
Not so confident at first light
The arching sun; the pillory of hell
Stretching in my threadbare shirt
A shake of your hips
When first the brew hits your lips
But I want to watch
As you take another vainglorious sip
The molten life-sustaining elixir
Down the gullet another cup is poured
Pitch black; the only way to drink
An awakening that just won’t be ignored
Stretching my arms into the morning
Reaching to take the sun in my embrace
Another sip; life will be mine
Success is surviving; sunshine on your face
Life isn’t as perfect as we make it seem
It gets a little messy outside our dreams
But newly rise in the early morning hours
Sex sweat/coffee fueled; ready for a shower
Time to live – life isn’t somethin’ you can stream
Textured mornings
Sitting around waiting on the French press
Remnants of dreams & pleas
Filtered through a truncated dress
Beneath lies details
Of scattered lace & bows
But in the end, emotion far outweighs my prose
Life has a way of working out
When you rise in the early morning hours
Sip your coffee & focus on the positive
You’ll find inner strength, not superpowers
Quietly sending out the proper vibes
Some days – be humble & pay your dues
Keep calm & marinate in your good karma
For soon, you’ll be running around in your Underoos
I don’t need all that chaos
I’m content with simple taste
Up early in the morning
To ensure the day isn’t a waste
A prayer, a pen & a book
Foundations to a solid grin
Society can’t take it from me
In control as the world spins
The curtains rose gently
Caught in the morning breeze
An undisputed beauty
My heart soaring above the trees
Our feet sore from the dancing
Closest to perfection I ever saw
All the while her lips were sealed
& she was hiding secrets in her bra
I’d trade all those gold doubloons
For another morning with you
Tasting your sweet nectar
Inspiring the day to be fresh & new
I don’t want fame nor glory
I just want to be naked under the covers
Satisfying & emotionally preparing you
Sending you out into the world; a happy lover
“No, you have to pour more in.”
“This is okay. You don’t want to use too much.”
“The color is off.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Okay, I think it is time to stir.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
The elves were perched upon his old coffee mug. Together they were stirring the creamer in with all their collective strength. Their small hands gripping the wooden spoon, careful not to fall into the steaming liquid concoction below.
“What do you think?”
“It looks good.”
“Yeah, that looks to be the right combination.”
“We better go.”
“Yeah, he’ll be up soon.”
The man walked into his dimly lit kitchen, rubbing his eyes. His glasses were propped up over his brow. He stood in the doorway, clothed in his usual plaid pajama pants and v-neck undershirt. Every morning was the same. He came into the kitchen and mindlessly pressed the button on the coffeemaker. Then he watched the precious coffee fall into the pot, always anxious for the first cup.
His coffee was waiting for him. Confusion swept over him. He always had to make his own coffee. His knew his wife and children were still asleep. It would be a few hours before he had any company, even the dog remained curled up. He slowly walked in to investigate. It had the perfect coloring. He timidly touched the side of the cup. It was hot.
Within his peripheral, he noticed movement out on the back lawn. When he looked out there, he saw nothing. The man unlocked the door and stepped out into the calm morning air. He smiled and shook his head. He went back inside and enjoyed the best cup of coffee he ever had.
The End.
or
When he stepped outside, the man noticed tiny footprints. There were a few blades of grass that were trampled just so. He noticed a slight iridescent glow to those peculiar blades. The footprints went across the lawn into his wife’s rose bushes. The man smiled. He hadn’t thought about them since he was a child.
The End.
Morning departures
A silent plane overhead
Black coffee warming
But I’d rather be in bed
Waking too early
Quiet village in my eyes
An empty mug
But it’s a pretty sunrise
“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”
― Robert Frost
Captain Q 