Grey and Black, the shades swim; from tired dusk, through depth-less night,
To silver dawn and the promise of virtue renewed.
I swim through dreams, foggy and dense, shift awake, shift back to bed, restless and cold;
And it is black in the time between day and rest.
She is beside me, curled up and warm, my heart of comfort, my steadying anchor;
A woman of virtue, desire and trust.
Black fades to Grey, as red-lighted numbers tick towards blaring doom.
Black fades to Grey, as dread of *another* day creeps into my chest.
Black fades to Grey, and I’m reaching for time, adjusting my fate.
Black fades to Grey, I lock onto her tight…
Black fades to Grey: a delay of time, an extension of sanctuary.
Photo Credit
Microsoft Office Clipart Collection
Guest Author Bio
Marshall McCarthy
Marshall is an aspiring novelist and writer, who stops by to offer his thoughts, opinions and musings, hoping to share and even gain a little bit of perspective. He is married (to a wonderful woman), lives in South Central Ontario and may or may not have a small addiction to video games.
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And thank you for the comment. I’m always a tad self-conscious about my poetry, which most likely stems from not paying too much attention to it in school. But, I’ve found that it really helps with my narrative writing, by letting me get to the meat of the subject.
I wrote this the other night, a couple of hours past my bedtime, just thinking about how I had to get up for work and trudge through another day. Being able to capture that feeling was great, but finding out that it spoke to someone makes getting up with it, all the more.
Thanks, Alison,
Marsh
I liked this poem. Really spoke to me . I have sleeping issues and you described them perfectly. Thanks