Mornings

Mornings fly-in like a son
Shooting from the floor to land in the bed between his parents.
And falling with the same force
Upon my face.

The sun heats my eyelids
Bringing them to a gentle boil while
I sleep
Wedged between sheets and a pillow.

Why so quickly does the alarm ring
Trembling my nose in the boiling water
And making me open
My eyes.

The sheets are wet.
Boiling droplets evaporating
As they fall one by one,
All over the bed.