Three in the morn; when
Sunlights sisters reflected splendour
Slips in nimble stranded shadows
Through the thinning fabric
Stretched not full across my window frame.
In a long drawn breath she sighs, strokes
With fingers insubstantial my sleeping furniture,
My stood still miscellanea, ethereal
In a solemn, silver, lonely light.
My eyes wont close, but focus sharp
On a room I forget exists in slumber.
Hushed.
An owl wickers wild outside, reminds me of
My solitude.
And I move my gaze to the ceiling, dappled,
Where the shadow of a stalking tabby,
Pads with me, silent, the fragile path,
Meandering back into my dreams.














Comments
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"Though both are bound in the spiral dance, I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess."
-Donna Haraway
Occasionally, by accident, I am a jerk. When I am, please let me know, and, if the situation warrants it, hit me with a blunt object.
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Stories keep the memories alive.
--
Divided Creativity:
Portraiture: ~AlannaJohan-Imagery
Words: ~AlannaJohan
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Divided Creativity:
Portraiture: ~AlannaJohan-Imagery
Words: ~AlannaJohan
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