The Grey Mornings

I start at the sound of each car passing
on midnight streets outside;
hoping it’s you,

knowing it isn’t.
Dreams fade with your warmth
as reality slowly intrudes:
it would be enough
to fall into your arms
and know I’d wake there, too.

I am only real
when you are near,
but you never stay

and the grey morning is close
and mine alone.

Ryan Stone

 

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23 thoughts on “The Grey Mornings

  1. You describe longing so well. Whether it is sleep or daydream, there is always that tugging shape within, aching to be filled by that certain someone, that does not stay to complete the puzzle.

    Liked by 1 person

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