Blurred

Woke.
Morning routine.
Rubbed my dry eyes,
Thought of Do’s and Why’s.
Rolled out of bed,
Head nested,
Felt well fed and rested.
Relationship to floor to door tested
Eyes best before my teens,
Without glasses focus not seen.
I make my way.
Give face spray,
And a splash.
Thick black eye lash.
Mirror blur.
I look presentable.
Thoughts of Christmas,
Present full.
Walked familiar corridor,
On watercolor floor.
Stolen sight sent senses,
Says scent is,
Tree.
Still blurry to me.
Forest sight.
Aura round light,
Beam ornamental,
Highlights.
Christmas past,
In a flurry
Memories sharp
Become blurry.
Thoughts stop
Turn to hot
Clean coffee pot.
Black dots,
Like racing spots,
Run round drain,
In my vain.
Before fresh joe rains,
In carafe.
Don’t laugh.
Aroma of vanilla
Ground bean for a
Fill up,
In my cup.
I reach for my glasses.
I sip. I sip.
And burn my lip.
I see.

-Clint DeCamp
12/11/2018

@realisticpoetry #poetry #poem #poet #poetsofinstagram #writersofinstagram #writing #poetsofig #writer #poetrycommunity #poems #wordporn #writersofig #words #spilledink #instapoet #typewriter #prose #poets #creativewriting #instapoem #writers #write #writerscommunity #instapoetry #writingcommunity #spokenword #poetryisnotdead @realisticpoetry

Published by capnclint

Poet, father. Trying to create meaningful work and leave the world a better place.

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