Poetry

The Wee Small Hours

By 21st February 2012December 9th, 2019No Comments

As moonlight filters through my curtain
I lie in bed awake, uncertain
Why one minute I was calm
Then awoken with alarm
Jumbled thoughts now fill my brain
Preventing me from sleep again
So here I sit at half past four
Knowing I will sleep no more
Now with notebook, trusty pen
A poem starts to flow again
Why waste an opportunity
When it’s put in front of me
Early morning sounds begin
Someone putting out their bin
A car starts up – I hear a bus
My neighbours dog making a fuss
Perhaps he’s heard a cat or foxes
Or newspapers in letter boxes
As all these noises fill my head
I slowly slip down in my bed
Waking from my sleep again
“Ye gods it’s nearly half past ten !”

Don Holmes

Author Don Holmes

More posts by Don Holmes

Leave a Reply