The bed is warm, just before the alarm;
A hand that won’t let go once its fingers
Are deep inside-
Everything rings in a pitch
Just below a siren song,
All despite the dawn.
A rocking chair with a view of the sun
Before it commits to disappear,
No matter how long the linger,
No matter how it swells angry into the sea-
The day has turned-
And silver sheen of night is still in need,
And every star can be seen somewhere else-
There is no need to stay should they follow,
If there is no sun to rise tomorrow-
My bed is warm when I’m tired.
Comfort laced its drug upon my eyes-
Oh stay, stay asleep…


Close up of glass bowl

Close up of Raku pottery