Tender Time Of The Night

 

i'm sure i was born
in the middle of the
night, though my parents
can't remember. i know
i was. this is the time
i come alive and start
to dream, when i feel
sexy and alive, feel the
pull of the stars on my
heart.

i like to watch dawn creep
in on light feet, black fading
to gray, feel the world turn
towards the sun, watch as it
tries to sneak in under my
blinds. i like to sit at
my window and watch the first
shift workers on their way
towards the completion of
eight hours. i like starting
my day when they are up and
gone, the neighborhood quiet
and empty; it belongs to me
then.

this is often the time of the
night when i most need comfort
when i am in pain. when i most
need words to soothe and ease
my troubled heart. this is
when old ghosts start rattling
their chains if i'm not careful,
am not quick enough to banish
their shadows from my walls.
this is the well i draw from;
moonlit nights with the soft
scent of the earth breathing
in sleep, flowers with their
eyes closed, they perfume the
air so sweetly just before dawn,
giving off their dreams in sweet
vapor that floats on the softest
currents.

i know i was born in the tender
time of the night.

denise

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