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In train-stained PJ’s and the day barely started,
my hands dive through bright colors and pieces.
With thousands of corners impressing their kisses,
I’m clicking together a ship in the carpet.
The tiny faces of men tumble, concerned,
praying for a fate undeterred.
Bricks staggered along a jagged-round edge,
with one hole in the hull preventing first take off.
Finally, there, in the tub’s corner, I find it:
That one petite bit, so perfect a fit.
Pre-Final Edits (before giving in to McFee's comments, which I didn't agree with)
Bare feet prickled by an aged saxony carpet
in train-stained PJ’s and the day barely started.
My hands dive through bright colors and pieces,
with thousands of corners impressing their kisses.
The tiny faces of men tumble concerned,
Pleading plump fingers to overturn.
As I worry my ship may not perfect
Pearls of sweat drip down my slim neck.
Finally, there, in the tub’s corner, I find it
That one petite bit, so perfect it fit.