Its 5am
The early breeze
Rustled leaves
Upon the trees
A slight chill
In morning air
Alone this hour
Without a care.
The bramble bushes
Attract early birds
Breakfast in beaks
Fly to who knows where
Distant upon
A steady wing
Its 5am
Just one thing.
A lone car coughs
Its choking haze
Exhaust it rattles
In bitter restraint
A machine thats seen
Too many years
Huffs and puffs
Almost in tears.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: August 11th, 2025 01:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments1
A clear picture painted in this snapshot of life at an early hour. Here the car can be taken as a metaphor for a or the person themselves set in the poem. Nicely done.
appreciated, thanks
Most welcome
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