© 2008 by Christopher Clymer Kurtz

I keep playing my keys like a rosary.
Sunrise pink against blue; can’t help imagining you.

Sneakers slapping the track; I fight the urge to walk back.
Receding fog of my dreams, swirling, vanishing streams.

Tick-and-tock, flip my keys counting laps,
Morning muddle simple-minded synapse.
All I want is to stay in my bed,
warm and cozy next to you, sleepyhead.

Too much motion to think; beating heart on the brink
of collapse from the strain of pounding sleep from my brain.