Hexed

The blinds are drawn.
I raise their slats to meet you,
A glaucous melancholy sings on a tired mothers voice,
only stirred by the occasional amber leaf.
The sorcery of a frosty autumn morning
Stalks me tired steps through the cloudy crystal ball of sky,
Hypnotizing tired morning eyes around the swirling ceramic cauldron
Of black coffee.
Only stirred by three bubble-specks who cluster and spin on their heels.
They hex me, and bind me with a spell of regret.
I slump in my chair,
And feel the haunting want of more as I’m swept out the door
By the chirping of a watch alarm.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------