Morning whispers on my
skin like a frozen breeze
dragging me into the waking world,
pulling me to my knees.
Morning whispers on my mind
like the lacerated edge of
a blade, a blue one, the blue kind
that slips through mercilessly.
Morning whispers through my dreams
tearing me away
before I get a chance to see
you. Still, i’ll dream another day.
Morning whispers into the day
like a whirlwind of frosted blades
of grass as they sway,
as day tornadoes into life.
Karen Hayward ©2016