I have the time in the morning.
Much of it is due to my rising before the sun.
I put on my socks, sweats, and thermal.
Another part is that Swag always comes first.
His bowls are washed, then refilled with fresh water, new food.
The utensils are washed, the leftover, saved for dinner, stored for the evening.
I then wash out my cup, the carafe, the filter.
I proceed with the process.
Twelve minutes max, most of the time only eight.
I walk downstairs and open the door.
Swag hesitates, then scampers out into the snow.
I stand, allowing the frigid air to revive me.
My bones feel old, but the mind reacts to the cold.
I say goodbye to Swag, leave the inner door cracked, then head to the stairs.
Carefully pulling the apartment door closed, but slightly ajar, for Swag.
I walk in, as I have a thousand times.
I look and in utter dismay, I begin to tremble.
I fall to my knees and scream "Why God? Why have you forsaken me?"
Tears fall and soak the floor.
The roommate's dog barks.
Swag returns to revisit his unfinished breakfast.
He is unaware of my morose mood.
I find things to do.
I take vitamins, urinate, scrape crust from my tired eyes.
I still hear it.
The once comforting sound prolonged by age or overuse.
Finally, it stops, but before I can enjoy it, I stare and think.
"You've been faithful old friend,, but your time has come."
I grab the mug and pour a quarter of a cup.
The first sip warms me and reminds me of the times we've shared.
It'll be missed, but some things must be done.
Thirty-plus minutes is too long to wait, even with my lackadaisical schedule.
I need a new freaking coffee pot.
Much of it is due to my rising before the sun.
I put on my socks, sweats, and thermal.
Another part is that Swag always comes first.
His bowls are washed, then refilled with fresh water, new food.
The utensils are washed, the leftover, saved for dinner, stored for the evening.
I then wash out my cup, the carafe, the filter.
I proceed with the process.
Twelve minutes max, most of the time only eight.
I walk downstairs and open the door.
Swag hesitates, then scampers out into the snow.
I stand, allowing the frigid air to revive me.
My bones feel old, but the mind reacts to the cold.
I say goodbye to Swag, leave the inner door cracked, then head to the stairs.
Carefully pulling the apartment door closed, but slightly ajar, for Swag.
I walk in, as I have a thousand times.
I look and in utter dismay, I begin to tremble.
I fall to my knees and scream "Why God? Why have you forsaken me?"
Tears fall and soak the floor.
The roommate's dog barks.
Swag returns to revisit his unfinished breakfast.
He is unaware of my morose mood.
I find things to do.
I take vitamins, urinate, scrape crust from my tired eyes.
I still hear it.
The once comforting sound prolonged by age or overuse.
Finally, it stops, but before I can enjoy it, I stare and think.
"You've been faithful old friend,, but your time has come."
I grab the mug and pour a quarter of a cup.
The first sip warms me and reminds me of the times we've shared.
It'll be missed, but some things must be done.
Thirty-plus minutes is too long to wait, even with my lackadaisical schedule.
I need a new freaking coffee pot.
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