short poem: it’s sunday & lions roam the street

it’s sunday & lions roam the street

A short poem capturing a quiet morning of loneliness, absence and restless thoughts, where ordinary surroundings become a landscape of emotional isolation.

sleep when you’re dead.
get out the bed though

she wasn’t there to peel
back the double duvet.

three quarter brown
nylon curtain shut,

the foretold eclipse –
glazed sun peeping

he reached for the phone –
more hours alone

before tossing left
into the empty space,

thoughts whirling
& laid out.

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