morning

why does my head

want to speak

at four am

i wake to words

i think congregate

throughout

the previous day

align as i sleep

and then flow

at the first birdsong

chirping at my window

i am amazed

as they fill the page

is this me

i think

i am afraid to blink

as words

fill up the page

and on any given day

my heart becomes yours

as it pours color and hues

my every heartbreak

my life in broken bits

in lines

dedicated by me to you

and i blink

i think

how is this me

my life an open book

of every person

i’ve ever met

and every sorrow

what is universal

lies in me

so very personal

and it flows

in a morning

i don’t quite know

as of yet

~ patty

art- “vintage typewriter” by maria stezhko