Mornings begin with bravado: blatant and defiant
(merely cynicism in disguise)
My voice chirrups with songs on the radio
while words prod a brand upon my heart
Soon daily rhythms numb the angst of midday,
and the bright noon sun makes me mellow as a daisy
What is it about a quiet car ride that gives early evening the final verdict?
Night stay turned and earth be still.
What else do I need but you?