mercredi 4 novembre 2009

The wrong hour

Six hours twenty minutes in the morning!, what a bad time to be awake, it's the calmer moment of the day, all is asleep, the whole nature, this deep silence is almost creepy, fortunately the rain knocks gently to my window panes, and this sparkly sound lays a balm on my languid thoughts, i feel my eyes are burning in the remains of a difficult sleep and watching at a screen too bright make me crease it in a soft suffering, but i don't know what to do, because at this time of the day there's no alcoves welcoming enough to guide me out of this complete and sublime lethargy;
I'll have to dress then take a bus to run again in a couple of hours plus some dusty minutes, one may think i'm alone this morning with the smart spit of coldness slipping, gliding through the crack of my broken window, but i feel fine and on my swollen face the birth of a smile, it's true, here on my side, words are warmer than the roses from my friends.
Thank you! For you, the one i feel worth living.

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