Every morning up at five
stretching to punch through
the day and smile
even though it’s dark outside
I’ve been at this too long
trusting the path to turn
one way or the other
On it goes straight past
where I planted my seeds
Still waiting to sprout
trapped in dry sand
Degrees on my wall
fill up the space
giving me pride
for a job well done
But there’s still that
breath I hold inside
A parched throat
thirsty for rain
– – –
Words: Timed free-verse (10 minutes), c.b.w. 2018
C.B. Wentworth 