Minutes before 7...

The world seems to wake up
As I drift into dreaming
It's minutes before 7
This is the only time I think I ever look at my alarm clock
Its becoming a ritual now
Scary, as I lie in bed I'm at my most thoughtful
Its relatively quiet
Ironically, the older the house gets the more noise it makes on its own
Love equally transitions in volume
Young, blissfully untamed
Passionate and direct
Public displays paint targets
And the sex seems to just be...
LOUD
Yet
Old love consistent like grandfather clocks
Never utters a tone on its own
It rather lets people speak for it
"They've been together for years"
"How do u do it?, what's ur secret?"
"Look at them", "Could that ever be us?"
The sun is finally up
My ideas seemed to make more sense before the rise
Certain types of thoughts are made for dark rooms
Did I purposely race against the dawn ?
Do we pick up flashlights so we don't have to cope
with who we might be in the dark ?



-DB