I wish you wouldn’t insist on waking me
Early every morning, fingers in my hair,
Sweet words on your lips
An inch from my ear.
I rise from bed, drunk,
Full, ripe, words ready to spill forth;
Yet, as soon as pen touches paper,
They lighten, transform to cotton candy.
And melt away gently in the rain,
Leave me staring mutely at the page.
~ Sara Myriad 2021