Mourning Morning

Warm and syrupy, morning arrives
With fingers sliding across
A cold, silky pillowcase

I want no more than to feel
The warm comfort easing down
My tired throat

As the sun brings pastel dreams to light
Another day of silent disenchantment
Threatens to bring me down

But lonely though we may be
A fleeting glimpse of balance
Beckons within dawn's foggy dew

In contrast, my soul relates
This sweetness next to bitterness
Symmetry on my breakfast table