Daydreaming
Lost within the froths of morning coffee
Underneath pillowy froths of cream
You’ll find the remains of my dreams
Wafting as wayward, cotton clouds
Clinging velvety on the edges of my mouth
They gush into the foam of a woolly mind
Latched like gum to cashmere of an idle feline
Tongue-slicked to surface, they voluptuously roll
into a wishy-washy song that impetuously holds
Time within crevices of a roaring chest
Instinctively chasing after withheld breaths
Caught in forbidden wellsprings of wishful glee
Glowing in a confetti of things I should not need.
Notes: Ordinarily, 7:32 am is the busiest minute in my day. It’s a mechanical minute working primarily on house-cat reflexes. But sometimes, a waft of dream will cloud that minute and will stay put until I hear a blaring car horn. Dismissively, I’ll flutter about, making small of my ill-timed escape, buying time to undo the damage. That’s how my mind gives me warning signals to flee from the riot of monotony, take a hike to the hills or whatever, wherever I can find an escape.
