The Poetry Marathon

There it is, that moment in time,
An instant too brief, like the blink of an eye.

A sound so subtle, a whispered breath,
Brushed on my cheek, like a petal’s touch.

Turning to see what is not there,
I catch the scent of tussled hair.

And a warmth, not sunlight,
Not breath, not much

But the flow of our hearts, our lives, our essence
Folded into the space between us, in senescence.

© 2014 D. Edward Croy

Tides of gray wax in the purple blackness of the night,
O sun, where art thou in this gloom?
A moment of hush, as the denizens wait for the light,
Anticipation lies thick in this room.

Slips the dreams into their cocoon,
To come again, or perhaps not again.
These manic plays end so soon.
No final act is played nor seen.

The hush breaks now, a bird in song
Serenades the coming dawn.
A zephyr carries the melody along,
To stifle my awakening yawn.

I rise, I turn, feet settling on the floor.
And enter the day through it’s opening door.

© 2014 D. Edward Croy

I’ve done it before. Stayed up 24 hours, that is. Even longer, although that’s been a few years. But this time, in addition to a circadian round of awareness, I’ll be composing poetry, or lyrics, in my case. I have a list of other activities to keep me awake between the hourly rounds of posting, as well as all the required nutritional needs. And a really loud alarm.

We’ll see…