The Birds

There was no apparent reason for my heart to start pounding at 4 am other than the intent to listen to the birds in the garden. I wonder when it's going to stop, the pounding. I would never wish for a bird's singing to stop.

I can't breathe. The lightweight quilt crashes my bones. The thin piece of fabric I wear burns. And my heart aches.

Why am I thinking about her?

It's cold now. The birds stopped singing. And the sun is rising. And I'm sinking into dreams. I can finally sleep.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Aralıklı Tekrar Sistemi (Spaced Repetition System) ve Anki

Tepe

THE SKY IS BLUE: STORIES (My New Book)