Sleep is elusive

A cold wind surrounds
the house 
scattered gravel volleys
of rain against the glass.
The kitchen is dark.

It’s 3.29am
Milk is taken, 
lit by a prison break searchlight 
and restored
to the fridge.
I make tea

I sit at the table
Both hands cupped
in supplication
Wind, rain, breathe, sip

I'm weary
which is no substitute
for, exhaustion and
won't deafen the
ancient echoes of 
experience and memories

These are now the loudest voices,
speaking with a
clarity and resonance
That over-rides the 
world I can see, touch
And feel.

Night emboldens the
flights of fancy and 
All the scenarios
play out
If,  If,  If,
If  only.

Images flicker past
marking a chaotic
concept of the
passing of time
Wind, rain, breathe, sip

Splinters of light from
an unshaven day are
Dragged forward and 
gathered one by one
Till they form an
ever widening sky

But, even as the sunshine
flooded horizons are complete
The darkness is at work
reforming, reclaiming,
resurrecting its lost and found

Missing only those 
tiny fragments, stolen
by dreamers and lovers
Enabling the stars 
to shine.
Wind, rain, breath, sip


Former Picture Editor. Now a sometime photographer and poet.

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