Item #55: Ode to the Imagination

Oh morning minutes,

When the eyes peek open,

And shut again as quick.

For the time is not yet,

For the day to begin.

Not yet to wash the night away,

Not yet to mask the markings,

Or taste the drops of starting.

No return to slumber,

The unconscious wasteful place.

Here to rest in respite,

In empty random space.

Here to rest in white land,

Where the mind becomes the canvas,

The sky has different colours,

The stars come out in day.

The leaves have blades between them,

Reflections that can sing.

The drapes blow words in poet form,

And church bells signal wonder,

His bark says hi, good morning,

Her smile says I am gold.

Her sighting is the first one,

His glance in 40 degrees,

Cars cease in clearing.

Situation mere detail,

Alteration a welcome demise,

Future is dotted with daisies,

Time is to arise.