The sky was a jealous mix

of sapphire and delicate white,

The wind tossed the leaves

in an angry dance upon the concrete.

As I reach down

to pick a perfect tulip –  

A shrill scream breaches the immobile silence.

 

I groan and reach for my alarm clock,

My hand skims the uneven surface of my nightstand –

two inches back, four to the left

third button on the top

same routine.

I press it and the room is silent.

I lay there with a vacant look

My thoughts back in dreamland

I sigh and sit up

and grab my cane,

It’s eight in the morning

the sun most likely shining bright

I rub my scarred eyes gently

For me, there’s only darkness.