Another dawn

The invading eastern glow
makes me self-conscious and withdrawn,
a purring cat in cozy hours.

I imagine tip-toeing to my attic,
opening an iron chest stuffed with reveries.
Making the minimum of noise, lest the world
discovers my larceny, I bring out

yellowish photographs : our cottage
in its youth, me and my younger brother
busy playing basket ball, mother in her kitchen,

the sausage in our breakfast, father's gruff voice,
slow whispers of cutlery, the fresh heady scent
from our garden, all the trivial details of a Sunday
morning, warms upto me.

A sudden quake disrupts the scene.
Why does the place swing like a country boat?
Or is it me barging against my memories?

There! A thieving magpie enters the room,
snatches my jewels and leaves in a flash -

I'm left with a cruelly lit day.