of mornings

what do i think upon waking,

upon the first blink of my eyes?

every night, i try to remind myself

to remember my thoughts when i rise.

and every morning my phone alarm rings,

and i swipe my thumb ‘cross my screen,

and i yawn and stretch my arms out,

and rotate my ankles in rings.

and i sit up and stare at my curtains,

to see if it is still dark,

and i climb out of all of my covers

as my neighbor’s old dog starts to bark.

and every morning my feet hit the floor,

and i shiver and reach for a sweater,

and i shuffle across to my door

as i check my phone for the weather.

and i throw eggos in the toaster

as i finish my leftover homework,

and i belatedly remember my failed reminder

and say that tomorrow will be a do-over.