Mild Mannered Mornings

Wake up. Every morning I wake up to my alarm. And snooze about 5 times. I end up rushing out without even a look in the mirror when originally the plan was to wake up to the birds, bright eyed, bushy tailed, beautiful. Get some things done before work. Maybe even grab that coffee that I have been thinking about starting to drink. Walk slow. Drive slower. No. Screeching into my parking spot, I finally look up in the rear view mirror at myself. Tiny tiny feathers hanging from pieces of my hair. Pillow feathers. Sleep feathers. Dreamy feathers. So little and clinging to the messy strands of brown. We have come so far feathers, but now you must leave me. From my pillow to a dirty parking lot in the arts district. I wore my hair down in a braid for you. And also I wonder if I have a sleeping disorder. Too much of it, you know.