How the birds chirp a symphony at dawn
along with the blaring radio by my bedside.
The flyscreen is clawed hungrily by a cat
who demands re-entry to his castle
after a night of stalking in overgrown, wild grass.
The aroma of percolated coffee disturbs
my inner sanctum of harmony.
Reluctantly, I cast it to one side like a warm quilt
to greet another working day.
As the sun rises, fresias welcome the arrival
of orange hues streaked across the sky
like a long lost relative
while chickens cluck their way from makeshift roosts to the back door.
The traffic creeps sleepily past this yawning household,
and I catch sight of my tousled hair in the kitchen window.
Makeup, heels and stockings strewn across the house
ready to be collected and employed.
In the mirror, I wonder if blue eyes inwardly searching the
the aqua depths of wakefulness,
make any difference to my external outlook.
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Originally Posted by Haunted
