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Location: New York, New York, United States

Monday, February 06, 2006

Waking Up 4/29/03

My days become perpetual dawns ...
Always awake at six.
Light passes through (in winks and yawns)
My window, playing tricks.
The sun comes in and stretches wide
Eyelids and stubborn lashes,
Who cling to sleep, who tell me lies
In dreams of dust and ashes.
Gold-flickered trunks of trees who grow
And age
Mock my impatience.
They can't be caged
And yet they know
To rest throughout life's changes.

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