I never loved you more than that day, early in the morning. You said: 'I'm too old for this s***' and you were, but I don't know it at the time. I'm up, still working, and I let you wash your face and brush your teeth before I kiss you and then crawl into the warmth you've left in this squeaky bed. Six in the morning. The sun dawns. My bedtime. Six in the morning. Wakey wakey old girl. I wish I could be sober as a child on a Sunday morning, but I can't and I will deal with it. Tomorrow though and then maybe just a little. I've been yearning for a non-existent substance and I'll keep the fire burning, but it's time to dim the lights, I think. Crawl into the warmth.