I stare up at the dark ceiling as
The television watches and
Mutters softly in the early
Morning air. The wind howls
Outside the window, the sheets
Rustle with the movement of my
Feet. I silently will myself to sleep,
to fall into oblivion for a
Little while longer.
I am more trusting with my eyes
Rosy pink light filters through
The shutters, turning shadows
Into familiar objects once more.
The TV screen flips commercials
Until the news anchor greets the
Room with a good morning.
The ceiling turns white before me
As the night slowly loses its hold.