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The Early Night
March 4, 2019
The clock reads 19:00
Tiresome waves consume me.
The skies, ominous darkness,
Wishing to be a lullaby,
Makes my mind drift off
Like a NASCAR turn.
Languidly I pry myself up.
Hands are almost transparent,
Sleep is the only desire.
The television crackled
But I did not halt
At that dog whistle.
The flocculent mattress
Was not one to be compared.
Eyelids drooped over,
And with the sheep counting to me,
My eyes promptly closed.
Knowing I was safe,
Rest was the only call
And morning would abruptly answer.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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