Early Morn

On the crooked teeth of porcelain
Chewing yellow fragments and traffic signs
With glitter at the opening
Dark stains from red wine
Broken glass swirling at the drain
A cool breeze and open blinds
The feet of liberty staggering
Across a dotted line
The light of evening flickering
A household full of chores
The parlors and the boutique shops
Have long since closed their doors
As the streets silently silhouette
The brick and mortar torn