The morning was late.
I didn’t even have the time to rub my eyes
Already woken by the afternoon wind.
I’m running to you
By the damp edge of the day
Between the dew drops
I spill words from my sleeve
Like magicians pull pigeons
And you sip coffee and don’t even glance
At how the sky above us turns blue.

Ivona Sophia

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-morning-was-late/