Ah, comfort.

This waking moment is all aglow

yet I am unaware of it,

still mostly asleep in this wonderful bed.

–

My world is smooth right now,

like so many pebbles, lost in a river.

Don’t you know I’m dead to the world,

drowned in blue sheets.

–

Outside upon a broadening canvas,

birds begin what birds must do.

Soft pillows do little, so very little,

to filter out their songs,

and lengthy conversations.

It’s alright because I’m still swimming in blue.

–

In the end, I must leave comfort.

We all must leave eventually.

Sitting in traffic must be done.

Tedious tasks must done.

Longing for bed all the time, all the day.

But wait,

I’m still here.

Not even the birds can shake my shoulders.

I guess ten more minutes couldn’t hurt.

–

Before I know it,

minutes are lies,

hours are possible,

all along knowing

that I must leave

for the day ahead.

–

Maybe just a little longer.

Maybe I won’t be missed today.

–

Light pours in through eastern windows,

rousing dust up off the floor.

Though warmth is what the morning offers,

this comfort,

I cannot ignore.