24 Jun 2011

Good morning truth...

The house is silent, save for the dustbin truck
Grinding its way past
Outside the front window
And a small prism that hangs in there
Throws shards of rainbow across the white walls
Across the ceiling and rug
Across the sofa and my hand that holds my
Morning coffee
I open my palm to examine the splinters of colour
Each one long and razor thin
White light, white noise
Split into its component parts
The only real truth I think I will be privy to today

The baby stirs from the back bedroom and
I go to greet him
He smiles and frowns all in one
Happy to see me and resentful at having to move
From under
The mountainous white duvet
We lay watching cartoons for a time
The sun not yet having reached behind the house
We lay at the mid point, at a fork in the road
I lay undecided as to my intentions for the day
To stay where colour reveals itself
Or remain awake and battle the white light.