The Morning Mess

Awhile back I saw a picture of a dresser covered with cups and mugs with sunlight streaming through the window behind it. Inspired, I decided to make up a story behind the mess. I couldn't find the original picture, so I recreated my own version to capture a snapshot of a similar scene.

These are my recreated versions



The Morning Mess

Golden shafts of morning light stream through the window.
With Morning’s bright advent and the room touched in its wake,
A late night gathering’s unsightly remains are brazenly shown,
An expansive mess rudely exposed.

An empty bag that once held pretzels,
A soda can with the pull-tab missing,
Brightly colored jellybeans straying from their home,
The mess abandoned on a low coffee table,
Its wooden surface sticky from careless spills and sugary specks,
With a dirt stained rug underneath.

Cups and mugs grouped across the dresser,
A set of three tea stained mugs,
A duet of tall clear glasses filled with water,
A lone tea bag left used on the kitchen counter,
And a half empty cup of coffee.

Napkins and crumbs and liquid drops sparsely spattered throughout the room,
Every surface decorated by their touch:
The coffee table, dresser and kitchen counter.

From ever angle the mess appears,
Juxtaposed in the fresh morning light,
The carcass dispersed, strewn across.

Left untouched in the early hours before toppling into bed,
But as she wakes from her slumber, she sees the mess--
And she smiles.

Tea stained mugs, water filled glasses, empty coffee cups,
The many vessels residual proof of the night’s late talks and intimacy of close friends.
Each one a reminder of the individual who used it.
The trusted adviser who drinks only water after 9:00 PM,
The aspiring poet who loves earl grey with sugar and cream,
The one with bubbling laughter who forgets which cup is hers,
The long time friend who drinks her coffee white and her tea black,
The studious adventurer who drinks soda once a month, and
The world traveler who likes to mix the teas that she brought when she finally comes home.

What’s left is proof of bonds and ties,
Hopes expressed and wishes told,
Secrets shared throughout the night.
Camaraderie and good conversation,
Last nights laughs are treasured memories.
She reminisces the comforting sounds, familiar voices,
The wonderment of friendship.
She’d rather have the mess than a clean house of loneliness.

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