Morning

The morning air meets my freshly pounded face.
Waking up is normally an unpleasant experience of
My body feeling like it's been contorted to strange shapes
Positions of uncomfortable sleep
A circus act of my dream space with an
Inflexible performance on the tight rope of the
Hours from 1 am til now.

This morning I don't feel like I fell
The smell and the sounds actually refresh
A breeze persuades my drapes to dance and
The chirping of a few high flyers orchestrates
The sky still dim
Letting the sun ease through the clouds
The air chill, reminding of the ability I have to feel.

Time for things to change
Societies rules are about to take over again
The season of play and reunion moving out
With that wind.
The leaves will no longer glimmer green,
But a gold glow will fill
Their place on the branches sprawling to cover.