It lulls me and coos. It strokes my heartbeat and calms my go. It turns off messy noise and folds in the sound of the air vent and the distant airplane to whip up a symphonic lullaby. This is the lingering sleepiness after I wake up that tries to suck me back in and miss the day, or at least the morning.
Like a forgotten lover, my shrugged off sleep whispers me longingly to touch it again. “Don’t leave me,” it says as I try to move on. “Come back to me,” desperately singing it’s song. And after I stand and reach for my next, it bitters up and acts spurned. That’s when it sends in its cousin to protect its honor; so fatigue wracks my shoulders. My back needs a stretch and my joints feel so old.
Coffee. You new and wonderful fling. I want you to be my trophy-wife now.