Ethan Stiles
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Morning Routines

Till the end of my days...

Dawn dreams of simple pleasures

The dew drops frosted upon the grass right in between your toes

And then when it snows and gets much too cold

Your breath is caught for a mere moment, quietly suspended in the air

“Bring me your sinners”

Twilight simply sighs

“Leave your saints at home;

They don’t fool me anymore”

Dawn, it hopes for better futures

For you, for me, for all seven of your little, little sisters

And all five of your fiery, faultless brothers

Dawn longs for ease and simplicity

A brief yawn, a stretch, and some strong coffee

Soft, soft music plays that forgets yesterday’s blows

A black and white sketch of happiness to come

You fantasize about sleeping in till noon rolls around

But wide awake and stuck in a song you wander

You sip, and although uncertain you may seem

In your bright, light blues I see

Determination staring right back at me

I tire underneath those eyes

In between your arms I long to be

Like the firm branches of a strong oak tree

‘Til the end of time

‘Til the end of my days

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Morning Routines
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