मोर्निंग ओह मोर्निंग

The mornings here are especially lonely.
When I awake from my dreams to find the house empty and the floors cold on my feet, all I want to do is stay in bed.
Today’s wind is pushing against the trees, and I can see the shadows of their branches dancing on my walls. Oh to move, “come on,” I say to myself slowly pushing the covers away and sitting up.
“Come on,” I repeat sliding one leg off the side of my bed hoping the other would fallow, and it doesn’t. I collapse again there in that position one leg hanging off my bed the other warm and sung under my covers. It’s taking every last bit of determination to resist pulling my covers back up to my face.
“Today, is going to be— finish that sentence I dare you,” I mumble.
“Today is going to be—better not mess this one up….Today is going to be, great, it’s going to be great.”
I climb out of bed…
Now for our next dilemma…what am I going to eat?

There is dirt under my nail, how can this be?
I've done nothing but sit inside all day sipping tea.

There is a stain on my shirt, what a mess.
But mother always did try her best.