In the morning you expect the smell of breakfast
You can almost taste the scent of it from your dreams
But then you stumble out of bed and hobble up the steps to see everyone in the house still fast asleep.
You think about grabbing a book and a hot cup of coffee, the thought of that sounds warm and inviting
But then you do and the feeling isn't there
By noon everyone's awake and rushing to get out the door
You're not quite ready and the whole house is filled with tight throats
Now it's afternoon
You ate
You talked
Never actually saying anything worth it's air
And on the car ride home you forgot it was even a holiday
Everything you thought about doing that night didn't sound right once you went through the motions  of it in your head
So you sit with a pen and a paper
And explain what a coward you are to have wasted such a beautiful day