A harp heralds in morning
but I often slap it for a snooze
before finding the balance to leave the bed,
my cozy nighttime womb.
And with steps I’ve swallowed
like my first sips of stale water,
I find my preteen daughter––
a crumbled cookie
in her silvery pajamas,
and I shake her free from
cookie cutter dreams,
before reaching into the heavens
to give my cherub
a kiss on both cheeks.
We greet as if we haven’t spoken
in many weeks.
Each morning, a family reunion.
Truth is,
coffee will be made without us.
Sandwiches were sacked the night before.
Prior to a blink from Mister Sun,
we’re dressed, fed, and
filing out the front door,
paths forged in sleep forgotten.
©2024 | K.F. Hartless
Cover Art: “Breakfast in Bed” by Mary Cassatt
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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