Morning Awakening

I wake to the chill that wraps around me,

like icy fingers pulling me from a dream.

The floor greets my feet with a sharpness so real,

stark contrast to warmth where my body can feel.

I roll from the warmth, from the soft, gentle nest,

knowing this moment is a waking test.

My toes curl, hesitant, on the cool, tiled expanse,

where yesterday's worries begin to advance.

In the hush of the dawn, the world starts to stir,

a symphony rising, a soft, muted blur.

Yet here on the floor, as I take in the day,

the cold seeps through edges, both sharp and cliché.