Muffled Croaking

Dreaming dissolves in morning dew.
Peepholes flutter, resolve anew.
Awake before my snoozing lover,
I slip my feet from ‘neath the cover.

I press into my stature curled,
gently probing our crystal world.
I breach the truce of nightly gloom,
trying slyly to leave our room.

Aging oaken cabin flooring,
dryly filing its reporting.
I prowl the hall towards coffee dear,
prompting squeaking choruses here.

Slow and careful footfalls poking,
just provoking muffled croaking.
My morning java waits for me,
across a sea of carpentry.

Stilted cat paws go a-stalking,
foiled by the floor boards talking.
I try to float like morning light,
to slow the dying of the night.

Try as I might, there’s no ignoring
plaintive groans of wooden flooring.

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