always right
before dawn
I am
young again

worrying that
I can't physically
see my face

this feeling
like a riptide

the more I fight
the farther I'm
pulled from shore

what always
saves me
an old television

wooden case
hissing remote

it's analog
so nothing other
then dots of snow
blips bleeps and

other delta
and divine waves

that never fail
to gift me years
and wisdom

that put me
right to sleep

© Whit Howland 2019