For the first time in many, many years (dare I say decades?) I pulled out my high school poetry notebooks. My best guess is that this was written around 1982, when I was sixteen.
Slow awareness dawns.
Wisps of troubled dreams,
Are pushed aside by a weary hand.
Light penetrates the deepest unprotected depths
Leaving her naked for a moment.
She quickly closes up with a yawn,
And rubs her eyes.
Then pulls her face into the morning mask,
Lazy summer day.
A day in the life begun.