Alarm Clock Dawn
Focus is hazed
as wing-tip
dreams come calling
softly, persistently
those starched seams of
material obsession
trite expressions
that seem to echo
so endlessly
I've left it all behind, this time,
left it all behind in my mind
the alarm clock dawn methodical
in its wringing, starving, stealing time
so stealthily that you hardly notice
until one day you wake up faded,
to a jaded, gaunt and hungry hue
I've left it all behind, this time,
left it all behind in my mind
So this is how it feels to be free?
To be set adrift like some Coltrane riff
when need's an endless song
can't tell you where I'll be tomorrow
I may be drawn back into the yawn
of the alarm clock dawn,
balance is my only hope
to end up somewhere
in the middle.
~Eric Vance Walton~