February 4th: Morning
Writing that last request made me remember this piece that I wrote some time ago. Four years ago actually, so back before any of you knew me since it's only been three since I first met anyone that follows me here. But since it came to mind, I wanted to go ahead and share it.
February 4th: Morning
Yet has the sun begun to rise,
and yet here I am wide awake
staring at the dimly glowing
numbers of my blinking alarm.
Four thirty one flashes faintly
in perfect timing with my heart;
while the fan sways, rocking gently,
its cries hiding my shallow breath.
The rest of the world still slumbers
while silence presses down on me,
and yet my thoughts will not be stilled
so easily beneath its weight.
I wrap the covers tighter still
trying to fight this morning’s chill,
as I turn away from the clock
in an effort to fall asleep.
Yet to no avail, for the time
calls back at me in the mirror
outlining the entire room
but within unsteady shadows.
The walls become hypnotizing
as they dance within the red glow,
bringing memories back to life
as shadows begin to take shape.
I blink and an hour passes,
five thirty three flashes calmly;
while the freezer suddenly wakes
rattling in the other room.
What I dreamt I can not recall,
but I still lie here shivering
staring at the blinking numbers
burning themselves into my mind.
And as I sip a glass of tea
I feel as if I’m suffocating,
not beneath the weight of silence,
but rather that of my own past.
Even the covers wrapped around
my shoulders seem so heavy now,
as I sit on the edge of sleep
hoping for but a moment’s peace.
I blink again and minutes pass,
wherein a sound can not be heard,
other than that of my breathing
and the fan still rocking gently.
Yet has the sun begun to rise,
and yet here I am wide awake
lost within thoughts of long ago;
watching time calmly blink away.
Until the next.
February 4th: Morning
Yet has the sun begun to rise,
and yet here I am wide awake
staring at the dimly glowing
numbers of my blinking alarm.
Four thirty one flashes faintly
in perfect timing with my heart;
while the fan sways, rocking gently,
its cries hiding my shallow breath.
The rest of the world still slumbers
while silence presses down on me,
and yet my thoughts will not be stilled
so easily beneath its weight.
I wrap the covers tighter still
trying to fight this morning’s chill,
as I turn away from the clock
in an effort to fall asleep.
Yet to no avail, for the time
calls back at me in the mirror
outlining the entire room
but within unsteady shadows.
The walls become hypnotizing
as they dance within the red glow,
bringing memories back to life
as shadows begin to take shape.
I blink and an hour passes,
five thirty three flashes calmly;
while the freezer suddenly wakes
rattling in the other room.
What I dreamt I can not recall,
but I still lie here shivering
staring at the blinking numbers
burning themselves into my mind.
And as I sip a glass of tea
I feel as if I’m suffocating,
not beneath the weight of silence,
but rather that of my own past.
Even the covers wrapped around
my shoulders seem so heavy now,
as I sit on the edge of sleep
hoping for but a moment’s peace.
I blink again and minutes pass,
wherein a sound can not be heard,
other than that of my breathing
and the fan still rocking gently.
Yet has the sun begun to rise,
and yet here I am wide awake
lost within thoughts of long ago;
watching time calmly blink away.
Until the next.