Daylight Robbery

Last night I stole a little - from time. Don’t worry he’s got plenty on his hands You could call it daylight robbery, but that wouldn’t be strictly correct, since It occurred on the first of spring, at a minute past midnight. But it’s really only semantics – isn’t it? Oh I intend to give it back, but not until fall, I promise you that. So for now, I intend to give it to those who Hate waking to insipid mornings but instead, Prefer the comfort of a long, alluring evening… Time still has enough on his hands of course To wake me in the usual way, the additional Daylight finding gaps in my louvered blinds, it Finds me; blinding me with stripes, a colouring of Dusty motes with that angelic silver A sliver of morning’s grace piercing my sheets But the mornings are for birds… And they don’t give a hoot about what was stolen. Oh there are plenty of people who wake up to that inky blackness Or even that rusty red, that bleeds all over the horizon Oh they’re definitely not receivers of stolen goods, Simply lovers of a pantomime, albeit in the morning. She is one of those lovers… My wife Bronwyn, A Welsh name to match her pale pearlescent skin. Skin like perfect porcelain, that’s not in Need of the proceeds of thievery. Bronwyn stands over me now, the daylight interrupted My slivers of dust broken My colourful stripes stolen Grace no longer piercing my sheets Instead a finger piercing me… “Get up!” I did get up, for I needed to Spend a little of the proceeds from my crime Let the morning unwind naturally, feel the hush of Time press upon my skin, when the sun is at its zenith And ease into the evening like sliding into a warm bath… John Lawless’s Poetry Contest – Saving Daylight 14 February 2015