Every morning I wake and stretch

A slight yawn is released between my lips.

I press them softly against my cup

hot, fresh-brewed coffee.

I hear the wind come from the door

a dog barking and someones child yelling for something.

I press my lips against my cup

warm, fresh-brewed coffee.

I see the work that has yet to be touched.

Kids are running throughout the house

I press my lips against my cup

warm, fresh-brewed coffee.

I begin to tumble through the things

I pour the rest of the coffee down the drain

I wash all of the dishes and then I see

I have all of this work in need of being done.

I toss and throw every word around

each moment is pure and crucial.

Each letter comes quick and swiftly

Because art waits for no man.

I quickly grab this thin note pad

and pray theres room for  more.

Each word is a thought and needed for momentum.

These poems speak forever more.

The thoughts I am able to hide

behind all of these chronolgical stanzas

allow me to be secretly free.

I pour another cup and press my lips against the rim.

hot, fresh-brewed coffee.