5am.

I miss the 5am’s
when thoughts were hopes
when thoughts were whizzing through the air
undisturbed,
when thoughts translated into perfect words
and the typewriter would set afree a silence
I thought I’d lost within my palm.

Today I wake at 5am
and see a different thing to blurry memories:
I see how the clouds collide
and mist befalls the breaths of early morning;
how dewdrops hang from balcony tops
never knowing how to fall;
how your laptop hums a tune
that’s static, warm, a subtle rise and fall;
how the smile by your lips
stays
even though you’re not awake;
how nothing moves
yet everything is alive.

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8 thoughts on “5am.

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