Plastic Shadows at Three in the Morning

Naked silhouettes dance across
wicker chairs and wooden stairs.

Shadow fairies come to life
upon the calling of three am.

Witching hour becomes a flamed
candle,

flickering
in the hush, still of night-

Whispering softly to spirits
on the opposite side of sanity,
I feel normal and completely
unaware of my current surroundings.

I hear water dripping
from a faucet that was leaky
before the day I was born.

This is the hour that my bones
are passionate with cool breezes
and soft music.

The birch outside my window
reminds me of a dawn awakening,
so I remain a mannequin of stillness,
sweetly singing a lullaby to myself....