Hour 17, "Whispers..."

2023 Poetry Marathon, Hour 17

Hour 17

9/2/2023

 

"Whispers..."

 

Mid-naught…

and my breath HOLDS.

Eyes startle,

wander, focus…

Search, I can see each movement,

each passing pause and restart.

I can hear each "tick" - feel …each… tick.

Sense as the second hand sweeps

round and around the face.

I FEEL the THUNK of the minute

as it falls into the present

and my heartbeat mirrors the intensity.

 

Midnight

electric hum

the chime of the portent comes alive…

and my legs move

bedclothes rustle -

feet find their home within leather wraps.

 

Coffee beckons

and the kitchen table awaits…

 

Midnight, just another day in paradise.

 

Chris

(C) Chris Twyford 9/3/2023

 

Author's Note

Feel free.