The early hours of a new day
Sit long, and undefined
Time flows differently here
Things always
Both far and near

The body calls for sleep
But mind does not pick up the voicemail
As thoughts surface and sink
Sleep hunted for like the obsessed man
Hunts a white whale

This quiet time
Marked by a symphony
Of creaks and clangs
As the life of the house
Contracts and expands

And then
Dim light pierces the gloom
The minutes accelerate
Towards an alarm
And it is clear, it will be morning soon

Dave James Horn ©

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