6:20 aah yes 6:20am.
The waking hour.
380 shapeless minutes after midnight.
Here they come, a bleeding trail of bone white curves and straights,
running deep into the colours of my pillow,
the synergetic six, the troubled two, their empty cipher in tow.
My numerical bete noir.
I prepare myself for wakefulness.
The familiar morning curse,
released at the swish of a curtain rail.
A new page
A dark portrait,
A rectangular sky swimming in ink,
the warm musty tang of morning in my mouth.
My heart opens and closes like the red blooms
clinging to my outside wall….
To READ the full poem and leave a COMMENT go to http://www.daveyoungpoet.wordpress.com and CLICK on YellowFlower Part 2