Morning Faces

She wakes up

Early with the sunrise,

Sips on her coffee cup,

And grins at holy skies.

She is tranquil,

Yet known for disarray.

She lights a candle,

And begins to pray.

A spirit so wild,

She grasps your hand

With the soul of a child,

Leads you to her wonderland.

A captivating allure,

She draws your gaze

With a charm so obscure;

You’re enchanted for days.

And she entrances you

When you find her in the night.

Easily admit to,

Famously love at first sight.

And when she sleeps –

She never does –

She undoubtedly keeps

All that is, and whatever was.

She wakes up early with the sunrise.

She is innocent yet wise.

She grins at heavenly skies,

Awaiting her impending demise.

And in a second,

She was broke,

And as I reckoned,

Up in smoke.

Her beauty lies in tatters

For all I see ahead.

But lasting comfort matters,

“I’d rather die in bed.”

Now I walk these streets alone –

How I miss your morning faces –

I shuffle my feet, kicking stone,

Grieving people, mourning places.