My dreams seep into my pillow
As the alarm cackles and sways
Nibbling my ear

The ceiling is blank
But my mind is not
I retract into my thoughts and tilt my head towards the
Grey, ever-so-grey sun

The time on the clock basked in winter's meagre light
Ticking its tune of subtle persuasion
I always attempt to ignore


I succumb to the significance of routine
I cannot allow myself to deny
And I roll out of bed
My feet kissing the cold floor of


Alice Bellan