After a tired day, one after a weekend
spent tired, the next day finds you in the evening,
where you sit on the couch, spent and about to fall
asleep.
Meanwhile, outside, the crickets speak
back and forth about their dreams, though they
dare not come over here, and if I approach, no
matter how few blades of grass I bend, they choke
on their wings, as if I was the harbinger they spoke of.
I say all this only because the second hands tells me to.
I'm going to go find Grey and wake him, and even if we
aren't fed again, or get a snack, at least will see what
getting up amid all of this means.
-Black
No comments:
Post a Comment