Rustling leaves blow nascent fragrances
Eluding my alarm to caress the curtains
Goose bumps play with my fingers
Drinking the mellifluous notes
of nocturnes dozing
in dawn’s velvet touch
It trickles down my throat
sip by sip
sifting the morning vacuum
of tangy brooding
I burst tiny bubbles on my tongue
an attempt to assimilate
the whispering ticks of my watch
Wonder how the birds feel the early worm?
Do they feel those silent seconds
drowning in the sky scraped cacophony?
Tiny moist beads
grace my palms
The whiff of ginger enmeshes into
a petrichor- a warmth
to cup my eyelids
an attempt to mellow down their rapid movements
How can I pretend to be blind?