The In-Between

Sat, 06/13/2015 - 00:23 -- eddy224

Saturday mornings

nothing to do, really,

except try to stay asleep-

or whatever that warm in-between is.

Comfy, cozy, that familiar smell of your pillow

mingled with traces of last night's dreams,

You can't really remember what it was...


Maybe a couple fairies?

Or just the plain peanut-butter jelly fluff?

Roll over. 

Evade wakefulness

and propel yourself into that other place. 

Scrunched up eyes.

Fuzzy, warm....

Enveloping you in that lavish in-between...

Then, ugh! 

My breath!


chuckle at this little trick.

Nature's own alarm clock. 

This poem is about: 


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