Morning

I wake to cracked sunlight,
Pouring across my floor
In crystalline waves, bright
As starlight. Under the door
Creeps the smell of coffee.
A sunny morning’s ritual
That I have missed. Stroppy
Sibling searching for victuals
To devour. Summer birds twitter
In the trees. Clouds float, undisturbed.
Steaming cup. The taste, bitter.
Bread rolls arranged, served,
By shaking fingers, gripping
The plate. Cat, purring softly.
Father listening to the radio, sipping
And muttering over the news, crossly.

Now, all is different.
Sky seems darker underneath blue.
Deep darkness under door. Ignorant
Silence audible. Impossible. Soft mew
From edge of bed. Down the stairs,
Into the kitchen. I click on the kettle.
Teacup, teabag, milk, mug. Cat cares,
Chasing my legs. I give up. Settles
To licking a bit of butter. A whack
To the CD player and Africa pours out.
I smile. Tea. Toast. Whirr. A new track.
I settle with a purr. Yet I feel the lack
Of life. An old man lies asleep upstairs.
Walking stick in the hall. I hear a shout
And come running. Music of another world dares
To follow my feet. At the end, I will I start to walk.

Doubting. Yet smiling.