8:15

In haste the pillow puddles topple sequentially to the floor,

a whoosh of white and linen in a billowing overlay.

She stacks the sheets and feeds the tabby cat at 8:04,

the pearls are strung and spots of coffee softly stain her lace.

She places her cup upon the left-side of the sink,

as water droplets mingle with the wrinkles of her fingers.

Alongside of her arm and hand is skin smudged-up with ink,

at 8:08 soap subdues the written marks that linger.

Around 8:10 she grabs her glasses with dents along the frames,

She brushes on a blue-grey shadow called, “The River Thames”.

And when the sun reveals the morning glory ever-fair,

she shuffles to the bus-stop stooping down to drop her token.

At 8:15 she grumbles about the rising cost of fare,

she yawns away the sleepiness and day’s first words are spoken.