I can leave a window open tonight
a breeze across the soft fuzz of my cheek.
I never sleep in this position
but on my back
I hear the lullaby:
street noises
a passing car
a train without people
going - somewhere.
A lone dog walker,
a whistler in the dark
a laugh - then gone.
will sleep stop this silent joy in my head?
then let me be.
eyes softly
resting in
the Bogart greys .
a thin cover of
the moon on my body,
my feet
slowly opening
out.
when so few are awake
there seems to be
more world for me to live in
coming through my window