Like a squirrel caught in the open
a dream scuttles away
and I am awake in the winter gloom.
I glance at the bedside clock display;
myopic eyes in this darkened room
have me reaching for glasses – six something.
Not yet seven. Still time to rest.
6: so rounded, female, comforting;
shape of an armchair snug and blessed.
The clock's a pitiless device,
will flick to seven before my eyes.
7: angular, sparse, precise;
the call to work, the cue to rise;
an arrow pointing to the day;
the sign for dreams to flee away.
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