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Pastimes : Calling all SI Poets

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To: epicure who wrote ()	4/25/1999 7:38:00 AM
From: Nomad	of 2095

Morning Coffee In the early morning hours, My thoughts ...they do not march In rank and file order, But rather filter in, as sunlight Through a grimy pane. Brief pictures; moments caught in time. Dust motes suspended in a ray. She looks up at me [freeze frame], Her face is a mask, half pleasure, Half pain, and then... gone. Who was that girl, that image And who, really, was I? Endless questions troubling An already troubled mind. The sins of the father... The molten sun still rises Relentlessly in the east and The coffee drips into the pot As I ready myself for yet Another day.

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