Another early morning.
Gray light and whispers.
Another dream
eking to get through.
She stretches 'cross the covers
pulls back the sheet,
feels the cold floor
slam against her feet.
She lingers by the mattress,
thinks things better left unsaid.
Wonders if she should bother
to even make the bed.
Reflected in the mirror
it causes her to pause.
"Not half-bad" she murmurs
before uncovering her flaws.
Soon the tepid showers
drip across her skin
as she thinks about future battles
and which one's she'll win.
A thirsty towel
with worn and ragged ends.
Oversized, it folds around her
and dries her as she bends.
She forgoes the coffee,
the cottage cheese and toast.
Combs out her hair, dabs on some makeup
and lip gloss at most.
Where is she headed
what will she do?
Does she have any idea?
Is she thinking of you?
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