Jan 19
1 min read
Twilight Creeps
A Poem
My pillow turns hot and cold each night relaying visions every hour on the hour.
It argues in nonsensical dreams while I question it's motives, tossing and turning all night.
The twilight creeps slowly, methodically searching for prey like a spider hunting in the dark and my pillow the vessel.
The sunrise finally appears and rescues my mind with the soft glow of dawn.
And I awaken, tired yet grateful for another day.
Thank you for reading.
