5 a.m.
Alight and alone.
Modest and mauve.
Beckoning.
Shyly, seductively,
unveiling herself
to a chill and blackened
mid-winter morning.
To the East,
in a pristinely empty sky,
grace notes
that well the eyes,
imtimacies that haunt
and hollow the heart.
Quarter moon.
Two-dollar life.
Will Thomas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/interruptus/
