It’s a drowzy kind of morning.
The cobwebs tug my eyes.
Clouds of misty heavenness in a world that’s not baptised.
The slumber leaves me gently.
Forgiveness hasn’t left the stock.
A scratchy kind of shave required as I gaze over at the clock.
There’s too early and there’s Monday.
Somewhere between the two is today.
I stretch without remorse as my smile fades away.
©G.P Williamson 2017