Heavy eyelids and black tea

separate chambers of the mind slowly come together again,
as the sun begins to steal the nights reign.
A locked door with a broken doorbell.
A small window, just large enough to climb through
and a handful of pennies.
Leaping from stone to stone
as the mist from a waterfall
moistens the skin.
A fallen tree becomes
the site of a picnic,
or a throne.
Recycled words and concepts
dance around a haystack
in an old unknown tradition.
The changing of the time has changed,
leaving my computer with a stupid grin
and excuses as to why it would sleep in.

* * *

black tea is just not the same as coffee.

Advertisements

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s