slumbering inches
away from the
neonlit tonic offering
little repose
with this jazz interpreting
blackbirds long gone
stretching the night
till the sun raises its
sober wake-up-call face
conducting
the trumpeting traffic
ah, that music
all too familiar
calling me to the exit
and then to my room
where silence hums
mother's lullabies
yet words fail to record
last night’s reverberations
and again later tonight
goodnight
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
................
Paul Storm
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/writers-block-18/
