happily, katie

12 am 

I write this 

in the half light of midnight

At the kitchen bench. 
The air is cold, creeping

Through layers of yesterday’s clothes

Chilling me slowly,  

and I’m hungry,


My mind is whirring, 

shifting and sorting 

Through memories 

stirred up in sleep.
And I’m just here, 




To the quiet call

Of an inner voice, 


And it’s whisper grows

With a fierce, still, urgency,

And it’s talking of forgotten, forbidden, age-old 


Ready to set me free.

This entry was published on May 12, 2017 at 11:07 am and is filed under all and in between. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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