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My morning Coffee
When i wake, its barely dawn,
and its quiet, cause im the only one around.
Everybody else is still fast asleep, enjoying their dreams,
while im awake, wishing i was one of them.
I rise, and stretch my limbs, pull on a robe,
stumble down the stairs, with my eyes still closed.
I walk to the kitchen, and pour a cup of hot steamy, dark,
coffee, into my woodstock cup.
Plop some soft,heavonly cryistals into the cup, watching it splash,
as it starts to drown downward.
Then i watch as it disolves magically, before i pour some creamer into the blackness.
And then i watch the swirls apear, and twirl around and around, and make beautifull shapes.
Stiring it slowly, i watch it fade away, then i find my way back upstairs, and climbing on to my roof,
and take a seat, and watch the sun rise again.
I slowly take a sip, and watch the colorfull,sky, turn differant shades of pink,blue, and purple, and i watch the mistical,
enchanting cloads turn and twist into diffeant shapes.
And in my mind, i tell myself, they look like boats, hearts, or faces of people i met long ago.
Before i know it, i go to take another sip, and relise that my cup is empty, and the sky is returning to blue.
i enter my window again, and make my start of a new day.
