when the morning creeps
into the room wearing socks.
It edge of the mat
stumbles, which is a huge clattering,
when the toe strikes the electrical for the stove.
Subscribe to my heart the day I do.
I hope to rise to the sky, that
high illuminating the ball. What
is called the sun.
Overnight cruel dreams out already
fled away, departed the night
The kingdom of gnomes.
Now it's Sunday, and the sky
hundred white cotton candy.
Is it the white snow?