Early morning and a reluctant sun has yet to
blue the sky or clear a blanket grey; although
pink tinges are beginning to show the clouds
drift, shrinking away below tentative horisons
like they’re uneasy. It is a pale, wan dawning
no vibrant beginning, just Sun saying - sorry,
I’ll start again - strike the right chord before I
open my eyes and gentle away the night
You mutter easy for you to say blinking blind
and yawning, stomach protesting, so its just
another day for your stationary fantasy; we’ll
be spinning heedlessly, floating around here
in a closed curve like the onion ring’s cyclic
slice of reality - and you’ll continue to dream
© 1 October 2013, I. D. Carswell
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