Alarm Clock Dawn

March 12, 2015 by Eric Walton in poetry

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~