It is a Thursday,
so long with promises unkept,
of a close weekend.
I went for a walk,
and wet like a winters day,
but I needed it.
My life on the line,
close up and dirty like war,
without the bullets.
Bedtime came early,
well earlier than last night,
ad sleep came quickly.
The night came and went,
and dreams were in short supply,
just that sleepy warmth.
