Sixty days down in the barracks and hearing rusty springs
A bed, a bunk, dusty mattresses clinking metal frames
It’s 2am and all he can think about is the glint on the window
Subdued hues, the air is icy black echoing in his eye
It’s just not comfortable, turning this way and that
Draping an arm over the side, a precipice of man made proportion
He doesn’t even try to shut is eyes, he knows sleep won’t come
He hasn’t slept for days, canyons of fatigue with high walls
Where the sun rises and falls with regularity, but the shadows always change
Breath in, breath out, breath in
Fixing the cotton collar, shifting fabric is a cacophony in the chill air
Even with blankets drawn up the cold seeps in
Cold winds that settle into rest on a restless body
Breath in, breath out, no sleep will come tonight
Sixty days down in the barracks ends at daybreak and starts at nightfall
0 Comments:
Post a Comment