My Coloring Book

The alarm.

Damn alarm.

I wake and roll and stretch
and before me
is the page I am to color that day.

my lines of thought - clearly drawn in a daunting black ink -
creating fascinating dancing unicorns
or ugly piles of crap
or ongoing lists of things to do
or creative swirly-ma-thing-a-jigs.

And some days
I kiss the lines with red wax
following every curve
staying delicately
within the lines

Other days
Blues and violets and oranges and pinks become a
soupy rainbow
and line becomes color becomes line

But the best days?

The ones in which
I begin
with a blank page