ML

I probably couldn't request a nicer morning,

up early,

soft sunlight hitting. 

Piercing. 

Cold, crisp coffee. 

Words scribbled as always. 

Backpackers came in first,

rolling through town.

Looking for a hot coffee. 

Business men followed them

probably on their way to the office. 

I sat in the corner and watched silently.  

Not because of my quiet nature -

because my nature is not really quiet.  

But because I was sitting alone and it felt odd to be talking with no one next to me.

I kept writing,

because it felt like it had been a while since I sat 

and relieved 6-8 poems of pressure off whichever lobe of my brain those come from. 

I'm always more fresh and ready to write 

bright and early. 

If only,

more often,

I could get myself up. 

At night I try to write

and it comes out a jumbled,

but satisfying, mess. 

As I finished my coffee,

I was ready to leave, 

and answer to obligation instead of myself. 

6/29/2016

Riley Welch