Words for a Friend

daybreak

Darkness, and the little ray
of a sun reborn,
greet my tired eyes,
my wandering imagination,
my slack hands,
and tugs blankets away, painfully.

I do not wish to leave my sanctuary,
my tiny, comfortable room
whose contents I must pick and choose
to keep or abandon
as I leave.

My eyes meet the overflowing bookshelf
beside my bed, the
Kindle I fell asleep beside,
in the middle of reading
about men and mice,

and I find myself awake:
not enough for school, for
the crowds, the agonizing wait,
but just enough to greet
those souls bound in paper
with a loving smile and an unspoken promise

that I cannot keep, now.

It's not enough to see them,
and I yearn to abandon the day,
in favor of their worlds and people:

but I cannot;
the world that demands knowledge,
refuses to let me
obtain it.