So I wrote a poem in the wee hours of yesterday morning and I thought I'd share it with you
Early morning
5.43,
belongs to the birds and me.
As their chorus they begin to dawn,
They whistle and chirp with gusto,
the end of the night, they sing to mourn.
When early risers are yet to have risen and the night owls are heading to bed
I sit here and wistfully listen, to real owls, over-head, instead
5.47,
Belongs to me and the dusky heaven
As the sun just starts to awaken
Light flitters in and tidies away,
the thoughts the night time had taken
The skies are muted tones of mauve and pale blue and the sun continues to drift up
I watch the skies as they practice their dance, and sip tea from a very cold cup.
5.56,
Belongs to me and the bricks,
That make up the stone wall beside me
And the towering houses that line my court yard,
I wander what views they can see?
The branches that cling to it stand fast in the breeze and a few stubborn sprouts shoot up still
When the world is so quiet and the winds so strong, how do the not bend to its will?
5.59,
Belongs to the rocks in a line,
That make up most of my rockery.
Each one of them painted and signed with a flare,
done by friends and finished of properly!
These rocks remind me, that where-ever they be, a friend is always a friend
Even when it’s almost 6 and you haven’t slept, the night must come to an end.
6.03,
Belongs to me
And I tell you, I’m going to bed.
I got up at 8 yesterday morning and haven’t slept since,
All on account of the noise in my head.
I’ll crawl beneath the covers and pretend that all night I’ve slept like a baby.
Perhaps if I get a few hours sleep and start over again, tonight I might just sleep, just maybe?!