Awake at 4 am,
when night is still sleeping,
and the day asks itself
the purpose of waking again.
I walked to the edge of my flat,
a peered around the slightly warm,
sweetish aroma
of two lives that lived within.
Then bored,
turned to stare at the sky.
Dark, dark like brooding.
no trace of the blues,
no the swirls of the winds,
just a vacant yawn between two
building with the same people
sleeping the same dreams.
One cloud hung,
hanging by an invisible tread,
lit by the Ramzaan moon.
Proud of the silver fringe.
A whisper passed my ear,
and I turned to look from where.
Nothing!
And my cloud in the Ramzaan moon
vanished into the space.
Shaking my head,
shaking itself to sleep.
I walked onto the bed
and threw the sodden sheets,
and woke up again to the shrill
Alarm ringing in the ear.
And the begining of another day.
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