The Early Hours
The crowded mind rebels
against the crush of matter
and the press of time
taking what is given not as it was intended
return to sender
return to sender
multihued geomes gyrate, kaleidescope new hues
against the pressing dark
and the hollow empty spaces
encountering a light breeze
near-silent whirr
crisp linens offer ill protection from the elements
A quiver of supressed movement
heaving shoulders in a sigh
Forbidding all that is lachrymose
Time
goes
by
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