On waking

Nick Clapson
In Poetry
Published in
1 min readDec 17, 2013

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I’m startled awake.

Her cold nose nuzzling my arm,

drooping from under the covers.

I sigh. Grunt. And mumble

as I peer for the clock.

5am and she’s ready for the day.

I heave myself from the bed,

My drowsy dreams still attached

with threads,

the cold air stirring in my wake.

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