12 October
Four A.M.
I am awake
the October thunderstorm
in the alley outside
tells me its stories
while I cover the worry
that lingers on my tongue
with a cup of hot tea
I am still unable to swallow.
I fear the anaesthesia of morning
and stay awake
reading
poems of Longing
written only a few years ago
just for this moment.
or should I have found it before?
I've buried so many memories.
Like a Pirate's treasure,
I find them now
and dissolve the dust of apathy
with newfound tools
so I can see the luster of before
I can spend the coins
buy something new;
I ornament my life
with the jewels
of the past.
(rewrite 4.19.08)
Comments
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Steamlined, I like it better than the last version, and you didn't fool with my two favorite lines:
"I fear the anaesthesia of morning"
and
"and dissolve the dust of apathy"
Nice.
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