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Mar 16
I wake abruptly
In the early hours,
To a lungful of
Icy air,
The curtains flapping idly
In the breeze,

Fear fades as I recognise my
Darkened room,
Well known shapes
Of furniture
And shadows cast by
Newly bulbed street lights

Yet what woke me
Was and indeed remains
A mystery,
But something did,
Something lost or hiding now in
Mists of memory

Through which my minds eye
Cannot pierce,
But vaguely seen are
Edges and corners
Hovering at perceptions edge
As I roll over

And go

Back to sleep
Just a simple.yet recurring memory and event thatbseemed nonetheless to warrant a verse
Jamesb
Written by
Jamesb  58/M/London
(58/M/London)   
160
     old poet MK, N and SiouxF
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