A Breath of Time

light on curtains 2
Days succeed each other in a river of time.
What day is it?
My heart wakes up to sunshine
And calls of turtledoves;
My eyes open to swaths of gold
Draped on the curtains in carefree ribbons;
My body stretches of its own volition.

Muscles awake,
Skin reaches for coolness
While hands and limbs explore an empty space,
Running along the sheets,
Missing you.
Then focus in sleep-laden eyes
Fails, as usual, to locate glasses and a clock.

In a hairbreadth of time,
No, a hair breath,
I slip into willful existence,
Into the unknown,
Into possibilities of either/or,
Life changing decisions
Or inactions.

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Pandora's box, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to A Breath of Time

  1. Comment tu fais ca?
    Tu fais fascinant les activités banales, avec la poésie scintillante.


  2. john zande says:

    Ah yes, the blissful waking consciousness of morn. My favourite time of day.


  3. Suz says:

    syrupy! Slow and sweet! love it..


  4. arjaybe says:

    My spidey sense tells me that we haven’t seen the last of this theme.-)



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