Until the morning

Painting by Helen Galloway MacNicholl

835px-Helen_Galloway_McNicoll_-_Interior_-_Google_Art_Project

Soft darkness flutters with your breathing,
Night sounds on the breeze
Curl like smoke tendrils through the open window.
My hand on the sheet, still as death,
A white bird, a gull lost at sea.
I would have the night as motionless,
As detached from time as a dead gull.
But I have no power to stop the course of the moon,
To hold back the dawn.
I listen to each tick tick tick,
The countdown of the hours
Until the morning comes,
And you will say goodbye.

Just have to add this song by Françoise Hardy: Partir quand-même. Get your hankies out.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

2 thoughts on “Until the morning”

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