(untitled #77) Poem by bob barci

My uncombed hair and I
waken to darkness,
in a room, not my own.
I soon recall
that I am a guest
in the home of a mother –
one that is not my own.
Sleep on a pull-out couch
produced a couple of strange dreams.
One I remember, the other – lost.
Early morning shower
brings more life into my semi-sleeping self.
I manage a pot of coffee
for myself and those
who have not yet joined the living.
Unmade plans
still loom in early morning twilight.
For now, I’ll leave them there
to rest up for the days adventure.