He woke me up to ask if it was late.
I didn’t think he’d notice such a thing
As subtle cycles of the tidal waves
And all the driftwood that my nature brings.

And my first breath of day was caught up sharp.
Decision pressing on my weary brow
As focus found my sight amidst the dark
I knew I’d have to own up to it now.

He said he wouldn’t mind it if I were.
And I rolled over on my other side.
To me, thought of his mind did not occur,
But fear of which life I condemn to die.

To think a tiny stick of pink and blue
Could mean that much. I surely never knew!