It's Still Life

Mostly Messages

I roll on to my side, looking
at the blue dancing numerals
on the clock radio, and curse
the wretchedness of 4 o’clock.
I’m wide awake.

There must be a reason why …
The bedroom is filled with soft
snoring and sounds of rain
hurrying into the downspouts.

Mum always said that if you wake
in the middle of night, that
someone’s died. They’re trying
to tell you something, so wake up,
and listen to what they say.

And I stand by the window, rain
falling thick as vines. I wonder
who’s died. But there’s no message
to hear. Just night sounds tangling
with rushing water off the eaves.

for Twiglets #15 “Rushing Water“