What It Is

Hush now, about that,
laying in bed, listening
to someone sifting through
your recycling bin, rolling
over once, awoken by
a nightmare, pillow pulled
over your head. Hush. Snooze…

Hush now, while you walk
The ten blocks of sidewalk
To catch your ride
As the moon sets and
The sun smirks and peers
Over the horizon telling
you to slow down, even more.

Just hush, through all
the flashbacks of his hands
His eyes, his lips, face, taste, smell,
soul, touch, hush. Hush, hush.
And keep walking. Smell
the flowers, feel the breeze
Taste the coffee. You love it,

in the early morning, that feeling of something coming in the new day.
And you don’t know what it is.

(This is one of those ones that I wrote all in one go start to finish and didn’t change a thing about it afterward.  That always feels pretty good.)


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