and I’m awake-
the alarm has not yet rung.
No schedule for these moments,
no calls from mom,
this liminal state between sleep and dress
just me, the darkness, the lingering warmth
of a night’s rest, the chill morning
kept at bay in here.
The mind wanders,
not to things that need to be done,
to more important things –
Of kittens and kiwis, of angels
and anemones, thoughts
of potential and thoughts of –
The alarm has rung.