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One in the Morning
She lies still
And listens to the night.
The clock ticks incessantly
And the heater hums away
And occasionally footsteps pass gently
Across the landing.
The moonlight is blue-silver
And flung across the floor.
She is restless, so she rises
And paces across the carpet:
In shadow-in moonlight-
In shadow-in moonlight-
Her footsteps matching
The tick, tick,
Of the clock.
She crawls under the sheets
And stares at the ceiling where
The glow-in-the-dark stars don't glow.
After a while she cracks open the window.
A wolf is howling.
Maybe he feels lonely too.
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