Let me make it then,
coffee, toast and at five to ten
a shower, shave,
the bathroom becomes the
Master and I, its slave,
but the saving grace
is the mirror's broken and
I can't see the cracks that run
across my face,
the morning lights the day
and the lines that spread along the glass
get in the way.
Thankful for this little mercy I take
another sip of coffee and
wonder
what to do.