Promptly Poetry - Book 3

Another morning

The fan, diligently spinning
its blades clogged with dust
The sun is greyed out
Clouds or maybe smoke
from trees crackling in faraway fires
I pull the covers to my chin
and let my shoulders down
Too many conflicts unresolved
in the damp and darkness
The bed is the tranquil field
between battlegrounds
of night and day
I decide to never move again
from this comforting cocoon
until the coffee pot gurgles
good morning


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" 

Week #42
Word poem should include the word:

TRANQUIL

Your poem should be a minimum of 12 lines, no max No required form