One in the Morning

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She lies still
And listens to the night.
The clock ticks incessantly
And the heater hums away
And occasionally footsteps pass gently
Across the landing.

The moonlight is blue-silver
And flung across the floor.
She is restless, so she rises
And paces across the carpet:
In shadow-in moonlight-
In shadow-in moonlight-
Her footsteps matching
The tick, tick,
Of the clock.

She crawls under the sheets
And stares at the ceiling where
The glow-in-the-dark stars don't glow.
After a while she cracks open the window.
A wolf is howling.
Maybe he feels lonely too.





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