The Clock and the Hope

 

The Clock and the Hope

When I wake,

it feels like an eternity—

but it’s only 12, or 2, or 4.

I glance at the clock,

even though I shouldn’t.

One day, I think,

it will be 6.

I’ll have slept the night away.

I try all the tricks.

Still, it washes over me.

I yawn.

I breathe deep.

I find my happy place—

my paradise—

for eternity,

or two hours before…

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Half full, never empty.

But it hasn’t happened yet.