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.
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