Wakefullness

On the morrow, a pale introspection
From chatter of crisp bones
From blooms of fresh cold
On the morrow, I have called three
From stillborn teeth, come and find me
From slowing winds, come and hear me
On the morrow, like a dreamer in stone
From whisper to their song
From beds alight in long
On the morrow, see my reflection
Come and find me, tonight