I hated time this morning, hated the floor that met my feet, hated being awake and alive,
but then you came along, filtering rosily through the branches outside my east window.
The birds have been singing for hours, but did they get louder when you joined them?
Like the child who thinks all grown-up company comes just to see him, they welcome their big shiny playmate.
Few things are certain – fewer, perhaps, than I once thought –
but you never fail to greet me, hand in hand with each new day.
I'm beginning to think,
that this one holds something worth getting up for, after all.