most everyone I know stands mentally
thick in front of the morning mirror
converts into a critic by 10
gets cranky and dragging by 4
slouched and sloth-like by 9
till sleep’s never-land
slides open its dreamy doors
so quickly forgotten
the unique pink of dawn
the blue and green paint
of nature still wet to the eyes
our first crisp inhale of indescribable
and the soft needle
of the sun’s finger
delivering
our daily shot of innocence