i feel drunk
when reading about drunks
looped
no bracement
i look up from the book
it's 6:45 a.m.
i'm in the hospital cafeteria
nearly time for work

in a stranger
     i clock a face
                     struggling to become a face
publicly
            she breakfasts
bent under a hood of hair
(she's not sure what expression
                     to let be witnessed )
i dodge her glance

overloom
the windows
make a massive jet mirror
          reaching the full ballroom height
a shield onto hard darkness
   protected from a primal cavity
the patrons are shied in its casting
a smudging forms at its base
   the horizon beeking
   an easing hint of winters sun

the glow is wanted
          but it brings nothing new to its display
still a hibernal wash
i don't hum with these morning frequencies
they can be beautiful
but i pitch sickly
and i suspect
the stranger girl is also no dawn spark either

Mornings are the BEST
a fresh start
who says the universe is cruel?

Yesterday’s mistakes
gone like vaporous nothings..
well, the small ones anyway.

dear basil,

watch the sunrise
remember how lucky you are to see it
smell the morning air
keep it in your lungs because you can
water your plants
show them unconditional love

love yourself unconditionally
because you're lucky, because you can

love,
basil

I know they love each other -
I can hear it
from the room across; those

muffled, rambling
conversations -
She takes the time
to talk
and he
takes the time to listen - laughter.

I'm sure they smiled, together -

I know they love each other, because
I can hear it, from here.

(A gloomy, rainy Sunday...4:50 pm)

Sundown comes, and takes with
it, the spirit, the lilt of the day.
it wearies, and wanes...restless
minds succumb to acquiescence
and introspection at day's end,

the dark calms the world...

we thank God, for saving us one
more long day...from misfortunes,  
diseases, from the evils of humanity.

on lengthened gloomy days,
ashen hues of displeasure
ebb and flow, born from hushed
questions...dying unanswered,
it's hard at times, to keep on loving
all that we love...do everything we
love doing, with the same longing
and enthusiasm...as before.

to be, or not to be,
to do, or not to do,
to love, or not to love---
how do you practice continuance,
while reeling upon the murky
mid streams in life?

what if, we are suddenly,
summoned...to back off from
existence, take a final break?

do we carry resentment
wherever we may end up?
whatever second life awaits us?

our weary souls take rest, these
wonderings fade, as we close our
eyes at night...rising to a hopeful
sunrise, to wondrous chirpings of
birds...to rooster's calls...to water
flowing from the faucet...the sweet
smell of maple syrup and freshly
made pancakes, and sniffs of coffee
brewing...songs and scents of a new
morning, then, sun peeps through
slits and spaces, melting last night's
dark perspectives...a continuance
occurs...another day to tackle.


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   sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   August 25, 2021
#morning #continuance #sallyb

Smoke curls from the cup -
it swirls and dances in awe

Sunlight shines from Her hair -

Golden,
golden, golden -

is this Heaven?
I like to think
this is what it must be

I sit in this Sunlight -
bask in it - and I think
Heaven can't be as pretty
as this