The morning comes to me like a new bride, blushingly unveiling herself, tempting me to rise up and greet her. Me, a comfort creature, in this sleeping stupor, reaches out to Sleep to steal one more snuggling moment. Sleep peels herself away from my clamoring embrace, with me begging that my sleepy romance extend itself indefinitely and not die an un-ceremonial untimely death like the thousands of mornings before. I chance faith.
Like a temptress, she lures me awake, into a reality of my time conscious existence. My closed eyes slowly open, as my slumber is denuded. I am momentarily occupied by my agenda for the day which was planned yesterday. Meetings. Reports. Appointments. Phone calls. Did someone say cricket? Yes, what was the score between India and Australia, or is it South Africa? How about the West Indies? Should I really bother? I quickly tick off the to-dos, never bothering to greet her. I struggle to remember the vague memories of dreams swept away. What did I do yesterday? And to aid that response I am jolted out of the laziness. I stretch, reaching out, twisting, turning and summoning every ounce of determination to get on my feet. I mumble a few invocations, stumbling a bit.
I leave my warm bed like a lover leaves one’s partner: exhausted, conflicted, satiated momentarily, with sorrowful contrition, but evidently longing for more. Me, craving the warmth and comfort that only sleep brings. I am awake. She is gone. What a night! I vow, this we shall do again tomorrow! After all, I am me, and she, well she will remain my sleep virgin, in whose embrace I seek comfort night after night after night. My only wish is that she stayed longer, comforting me more with her unwavering loyalty, and engaging my dreamy nights without abandon. Like a philanderer, I quickly engage the day, forgetting my sleep-angel, but hoping that she awaits like a dutiful partner to take me to the sweet nightly slumber I crave. My yawns testify to how terribly I miss her, and gulps of coffee only serves to betray last night’s copulation. I become helpless as the day steals my nightly companion, and I am cast into the reality of living in New York City.
Like a temptress, she lures me awake, into a reality of my time conscious existence. My closed eyes slowly open, as my slumber is denuded. I am momentarily occupied by my agenda for the day which was planned yesterday. Meetings. Reports. Appointments. Phone calls. Did someone say cricket? Yes, what was the score between India and Australia, or is it South Africa? How about the West Indies? Should I really bother? I quickly tick off the to-dos, never bothering to greet her. I struggle to remember the vague memories of dreams swept away. What did I do yesterday? And to aid that response I am jolted out of the laziness. I stretch, reaching out, twisting, turning and summoning every ounce of determination to get on my feet. I mumble a few invocations, stumbling a bit.
I leave my warm bed like a lover leaves one’s partner: exhausted, conflicted, satiated momentarily, with sorrowful contrition, but evidently longing for more. Me, craving the warmth and comfort that only sleep brings. I am awake. She is gone. What a night! I vow, this we shall do again tomorrow! After all, I am me, and she, well she will remain my sleep virgin, in whose embrace I seek comfort night after night after night. My only wish is that she stayed longer, comforting me more with her unwavering loyalty, and engaging my dreamy nights without abandon. Like a philanderer, I quickly engage the day, forgetting my sleep-angel, but hoping that she awaits like a dutiful partner to take me to the sweet nightly slumber I crave. My yawns testify to how terribly I miss her, and gulps of coffee only serves to betray last night’s copulation. I become helpless as the day steals my nightly companion, and I am cast into the reality of living in New York City.
