It's hard to wake up
without the warm, furry solidity
of my cat under my arm and comforter
reminding me that mornings
are meant for snuggling,
not busyness.
But college is nothing
if not rushed,
so I hurry up and out
through lectures
and cans of soup
and a Granny Smith apple
Until I can retire again
to my comforter
and the pale glow
of moonlight
through the vertical blinds
When morning reappears,
I tug my arms into a sweater
to find brown and white cat hairs,
preemptively shed back in June,
reminding me again-
the best moments are never rushed.
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