Rose & Thorn Poetry

I am a morning person. I love mornings and I am most productive in the morning, but I am not a social morning person--maybe that means I am not a true morning person? I like to take my time in the morning, I don't just bolt out of bed, and sometimes I am around social morning people who like to ask questions and talk a bunch. I wish I could be like that, but so far I am not. I saw a coffee mug that said, “Mornings were made for coffee and quiet contemplation.” I agree. Early - (The Murder of Solitude) Sun-streams burst through shuttered blinds, Morning suddenly arrived. The dreaded wake up routine can wait, A few more minutes of solitude. Lying in soft swaddled residence, Eyes wide open stare at ceiling, Thoughts gently start to wake. Muted morning sounds, muffled morning noise, Blissful moment of solitude. Goodbye warm bed as bare feet hit the floor, Soft bedroom carpet turning into cold kitchen wood. Coffee. The warm enveloping smell of coffee.  So...

 I saw this picture online and I wanted to write a poem about it. I have a similar pair of shoes that I've had for years. I don't own many pairs of shoes so the ones I do, I wear very often. Memories can be tied to many things. Mine are tied to my shoes. Getting rid of a favorite pair of shoes is like a memorial of sorts. That thought was the inspiration for this poem. Photo from:  http://shineylite.deviantart.com/art/Day-3-216007254 *photo taken by Mary Kate Mann The Shoes There they sit, the well worn footwear. Old, tattered, beloved. The dirt, the tears, the holes, the wear, Evidence of memories and adventure. Faded and frayed the trustworthy friend, To rest is laid. There for the forgotten game, The third date, the plane ride, The few times that tears were cried. And a thousand other days, Experienced and remembered, Each with jokes, and fails and laughs and trails. Kind protection from the wet walks, Dirt, glass and nails. Always near, always cl...