Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 25.0: December 2009
Morning Shadows
by Belinda Roddie
Five thirty in the morning, and my eyes are open.
Time for you to put on your face for the day,
draw the stiff, starched collar around your throat.
Time to brush your teeth until your gums bleed,
dip your fingers into the sink's still waters
and wipe the shadows from your eyes.
You're getting older, dear.
The wrinkles say so,
and you don't hide your traumas well.
A mask wouldn't suit you any better.
Smooth out the creases.
Let there be the illusion that each day,
you are reborn.
Six thirty in the morning, and my eyes shut tight.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since December 2009.
by Belinda Roddie
Five thirty in the morning, and my eyes are open.
Time for you to put on your face for the day,
draw the stiff, starched collar around your throat.
Time to brush your teeth until your gums bleed,
dip your fingers into the sink's still waters
and wipe the shadows from your eyes.
You're getting older, dear.
The wrinkles say so,
and you don't hide your traumas well.
A mask wouldn't suit you any better.
Smooth out the creases.
Let there be the illusion that each day,
you are reborn.
Six thirty in the morning, and my eyes shut tight.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since December 2009.
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