Every day, I wake up at the stroke of 5

I open my eyes, and rise to greet the day

There is no joy or hate in my method

But a simple need to function and carry on

I allow movement through my limbs in the form of yoga

A quiet melody plays in the background

Bringing a splash of color to an otherwise grey canvas

The coffee maker bubbles

A warm cup of energy and desire awaits

The aroma has grown consuming

It has had a few moments to cool

Ensuring the safety of my mouth and stomach

I then proceed to lay out my morning clothes

Every day is the same

A light rain and slightly cool temperatures

A parka and toque will work wonders

I strap on my boots, and I am out the door

Never bothering to lock the door behind me

Locked doors are unnecessary roadblocks

I need to be efficient when I return

I walk the block and arrive at my destination

A small shop on the corner with worn out cedar shakes

Turned grey from decades of sunshine

The outside looks frigid

But inside, the warmth awaits

I greet the clerk with a simple “hello”

And carry on through to the green house out back

I have come here every day for the past 4 years

In hopes that one day I shall see it bloom

The Titan arum

Somehow it’s here, and somehow I’ve become entranced

I’ve told myself that things will change once I see it bloom

But that day has yet to come

It’s easier to put fate in the pedals of a flower

Than in the hands of myself

Perhaps that is a metaphor for life

Or the description of someone crippled by fear

I open the door and look up

A flower still green and closed

It is not ready to greet the world

So neither am I

Tomorrow I shall return

Perhaps that will be the start of me living

For now, I shall carry on being

Until I am greeted

With the bloom of a flower