It was a morning ritual
this waking you up
all puffed eyed
tormented to the morning sun
you tossed in half
spoken metaphors
hinged still
where dreams held
and the day ruined
The happy little plane of fancy.
"the Sun came out this morning"
what a torment
that song the puppet sang to you
Kissed your cheek
with his own fairy tale
widened your eyes
crafted deep the smile
and I knew
The day had begun.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph