Morning Awareness a Poem I think, by Patty L. Fletcher

Morning Awareness a Poem I think, by Patty L. Fletcher

Morning Awareness a Poem I think, by Patty L. Fletcher



Early morning birdsong,

Greets the kiss of dawn.

Sitting, curled in the covers, stifling a sleepy yawn.

Big dog, stretches long, beside me.

Paws, pressing, huge on my legs, stomach, chest, breast.


I sat up straighter, the dog sat gently aside. No more from life’s challenge, no more can I hide.

Life’s embrace.

Sweat, blood, tears, laughter, sounds of bells ringing, in my ears.

The taste, smell, feel, sound.

Circling, circling, circling, around and round.

Hearing the chatter of my neighbor as she greets her day. Knowing her thoughts, hearing that, that which she speaks to her cat.

I’ve no right to intrude.

In truth, I had no desire. No desire to know what sets her morning fire. What kindles the day to light. What brings it from darkness to light. To know, wrong from the right. To stand, to fight.

Now, I’m more aware, as my words to blue float upon the air. I will take more care. Shouldn’t I have always done?





Mother loves.

Mean, old bad old, mommy.

She means well.

Yet, she casts her spell.

Untied the bond between babe and mother.

Just as she did the girl’s brother.


This one lived.

See what you did.

Now, the bond rent asunder.

Mother, confused, closed off, no information readily to hand. Everyone giving different commands.

Medication to take. Just as I type, the Echo states.

Raise the shades and take medication. Even now, I must have a prompt.

Years ago, medication closed me down. If I missed it emotions out of control abound. The dam breaks forth. East, south, West, North. Hoof and Paw. I saw, saw it all.

I know. Quiet. Thought, a nod, a sigh. Sneeze, shake, stomp. With me, he doth talk.

Our words meld as rhythm, as one. The new bond is done. Nothing can untie or take it away. Unlike everything else come her way. This is here to stay. Sometimes, transferred from one to another but always what is needed a sister or brother. Love rises again. A new and special friend. Learning. Growing. Into love. Fits like a glove. Fingers, 1… 2…. 3… 4… 5… Fingers. Alive.

To myself, be true.

As I will.

As she will.

As we will.

So, mote it be.

May Harmony find You.

Blessid Be.

About Patty L. Fletcher

Patty L. Fletcher lives in Kingsport Tennessee where she works full time as a Writer with the goal of bridging the great chasm which separates the disAbled from the non-disAbled. She is Also a Social Media Marketing Assistant.

Follow her at: for stories, book updates and more.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *