Another Day

 

Morning photo

Time calculates

With the smallest particles of moments.

My clock spits minutes

In its assault on my life.

They dust my floor with memories

That sparkle and whirl away

In the wind of necessities.

 

Each morning must I reassemble

This odd similarity

I recognize as myself.

Not quite the same fabrication

That flopped to bed

The night before.

The underwear, the socks and pants

The shirt and shoes

Complete the structure

Topped by the aging head, white hair

Smeared with a grin of completion

To sign the victory for another day

Of questionable enterprise.

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