She Laughs Herself Awake

She Laughs Herself Awake

She Laughs Herself Awake

She Laughs Herself Awake

She laughs herself awake,
at an hour disrespectful,
the beauty in her bed of dreams and unknown solace.
There’s a stillness in the house,
and what she doesn’t realise
is the stillness comes from her.

The day, yet to play its part,
languors insolent before the rise,
nothing more than a passing car to heed its dawn.
And I wait with happiness
a pause upon my pressured lips,
I wait for her first awakened smile.

Posted by jason in Poetry