It’s late, quarter to four. the night has slipped away into early morning. the arm of the figure on the canvas must be changed, head rearranged, the center a little more aligned. The box on the floor must be unpacked. the eyes must be closed, they must be sleepy, how long can it go on like this really? how long til night time and day time are no longer one and the full days work can end with the setting of the sun while the moon that shines keeps me up, just a little longer it says, with that half gone look upon its face, just a little longer… just a little more… so i’ll crawl into bed once again, beside my love and curl into her warmth and in five hours the alarm of soft music will go off too early and she will get up and go to work and I, I will go about a day, another day… another minute, second, hour, week, whiling away each moment of my life… hopefully packed tight with meaning, dripping with substance, always the dance… always a dance….
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