I lie in an act of sleep
Curled, waiting
The blankets piled high
Do not yet drive out chills
That shiver down the length of my spine
Wiggling ice-cold toes,
Willing warmth to come
The strange cold silence of almost-night
Surrounded by a world in slumber
Even the pillows, the muted crinkle of fabric
Rustling as I clench my toes with impatience
Feet embracing, searching for heat
The room is too silent
Seconds tick by with unnatural solemnity
Tick, tick, tick the minutes running away
The accumulated exhaustions of long days
Full of weary worry and strain
Pull longingly on my sleeve,
On the corner of my brain
Willing me to fall into the silent abyss
To drown in the soft pillory clouds of unconscious
The waiting emptiness that each day takes us
To unknown travels of blank memory
Whose only knowledge runs out the edges
Of early-morning foggy thought
Like water through a cracked glass
Wonderment left behind in light of day
The list of ever-mounting tasks awaits
With less and less patience each morn
Thoughts of which only serve
To prolong my wide-eyed suffering
As I count the seconds in the black stillness
Of the ceiling over my darkened room
Midnight comes and goes
And when the morning comes
I am all but unaware of having passed
Through the silent transition
Of another night.
But before I have the time
To wonder what has passed
The new day drags me from my bed
Through the rush of readiness
And into Today.
The cycle begins again.
