The Morning

by Johnny Dantonio

Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;

A song,
A lyric
of love.

But everything paled when prepared.
Everything failed so hard.

So I gathered what I could of my focus
and spun a something of truth,
crafted into this:

A pitiful poem;
a something,

And everything I have at this hour is ours.
Every moment here curtseys to us.

When you get this I'll be sleeping;
I'll be without you
and nowhere near.

Some miles,
some months;

But that really doesn't have much to do with much.
That really has no bearing on me.

There's nothing alive that can describe
the something I wanted to send you.
I insult it with words:


But everything failed so hard
every word I have for you fails.