Poet in the House

He hits the snooze alarm twice before getting up. He’s already been up three times during the night. Two cats are waiting for him downstairs but for now they leave him alone. He wistfully looks out the window as gray skies cast a soft glow. He says he had a good dream but can’t recall. He calls out a woman’s name but I’ve never met her. His right shoulder aches. He mentions something about the years he bears. A ravine lies at the end of the street and bare trees reach for clouds as they wait for spring. He says that life on a dead end is more than it seems. He jots down a line or two on a blank page. He plays a song or two on You tube and lets inspiration stir for a moment. His fingers stroke keys and bring a poem to life then holds up the creation to light. He showers in haste pets the cats and they watch him as he runs out the door and goes for a drive.