Monday, February 9, 2009

Time stolen from sleep (free verse)

Alarm too early.

Husband rolls over

back to Sleep.

Jealous.

So jealous.

But time is precious

And too easy to give

to child, work, cleaning, friends, TV, e-mail.

Too easy to steal

from myself.

So I get up.

Stumbling

and

whining.

My desk.

My computer.

Scribbled notes.

They all wait.

I wrap Nana’s quilt

around my shoulders

and begin.

Bleary.

Still stumbling

over words

over ideas.

But I persist.

Because writers write.

And this is my

time to do it.

I take my hour

before the day

DEMANDS
it back.
 

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