At About Six O’clock

I watch morning creep
through the blind, a peeping tom
or sneak thief invading our room.

You are still a shadow hunched
in the middle of the bed, soothed
by the loud ticking of the clock
imitating the rhythm of heavy rock,

while I savour sizzling silence.
I pad barefoot down the stairs

to feed the hungry cat
waiting impatiently by her bowl,
vibrating with purrs
for the hand that feeds her.

Hollow click of half-filled kettle,
soft bubble of boiling water
and tinny clink of metal
spoon on mug of brewing tea:

So the day begins for me.

© Kim M. Russell, 2016

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