6 AM

A slight pain in my shoulder.
The cold downstairs after a furnace failed.
Early morning hunger.

Rain outside, just a degree away from snow.
Missing the one I love.
Nursing a hangover without the benefit of alcohol.

A fogginess.
A vague headache.
Eyes bloodshot and burning.

Each little pain fills me with gratitude,
I take an aspirin.
I flick a switch on and off and the furnace roars,

Gloriously warm.
I cook breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. The smell fills the house.
As I move, my mind wakens, sharpens.

and my life is mine again.
Already, before the day has really begun,
the first victory is mine.

About this poem

Welcome to my mornings.

Tom