i ran backwards through the morning;
from toast to coffee
from slippers to bare feet
from shafty light through slatted blinds
to sunset at 6am.
i stilted moved,
impossible robe flutter
from arms to floor
and body turning
down to bed
and head to pillow
and hand to heart
and eyes to closed.
breath deep to shallow
dreams rage to stillness;
in backwards morning i run
you are for the finding,
you are for the having.
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