I could use the extra hour to write a story,
or pass it penning lyrics for a song.
I might count each of the seconds very slowly,
to make the minutes linger on and on.
I could view the extra hour as a bonus,
as added time to read and think and be.
Three thousand and six hundred extra moments
a gift that comes from nowhere, burden-free.
But I look out at the slowly lightening morning,
at the windows of the houses down the street,
and wonder if behind those tight-drawn curtains
sits another woman wishing she could sleep.
11 comments:
been there
Ah, the urge to be productive with any available time. Here in the US we blame it on "Puritan work ethic." We should instead do more gazing out of the window.
Changing the clocks for Daylight Time is a cruel exercise, especially for us late-night people. I always hope that changing them back will help me get on with my morning, but alas, it's never enough. I'm built to sleep until 10 or 11 a.m., and the grandchildren arrive at 6:45. I'm about to blog about it, but it is likely to be more of a rambling essay than a lovely poem!
I love this a lot. And I've been there, heh.
I think there are hundreds of you. But few as eloquent.
This is beautiful, well done! You are very talented.
I guess I've found some kindred spirits out there! Thank you for each of your comments.
Delores - I hope when you have been there, you've found something good :)
Marty - It's like the line from the poem by W.H. Davies 'what is this life if full of care, we have no time to stop and stare?' But I'm really not very good at stopping and just being.
Blissed-out Grandma - thank you! I'll hop over and read all about it!
Jennifer - really pleased you liked it. And we all KNOW you never sleep :)
Philip - that's a fine thing to say - thank you.
Tori - Hello and welcome, it's nice to meet you here. Thank you for you very kind comment - much appreciated.
Wonderful words to describe the shifting of time - all I know is that it upsets my body-clock.
Very nice. Clever.
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