Headache, a grim grey dawn
and oral herpes can’t take this
morning away from me; it is
mine to wear as a crown.
Nothing’s more satisfying than
waking to song – there’s music
in the atmosphere, she swears
she loves me still.
But – being King of Ambiance
bears accountability – no less
aware of causes longer than
the span of my puny reach.
And as the sun renders claim
on a grey day and bores holes
into the blue beyond I repair
grace she freely gives.
I will treat today’s infirmity as
chance carefully embraced to
be her beau; she is – to say
the least – my patron saint.
© 20 July 2010, I. D. Carswell
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