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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