Picture courtesy of Flickriver.com
The silent dawn
greets tired souls
Not a thing stirs
out in the chill of dawn
Rough sleepers snug
tight in their sleeping bags
No birdsong their alarm
clock this morn
Some up to prepare
for Sundays roast
Kitchens hot with
their toil
This a day of rest for
many
Whilst others work
to pay the bills
But for most
it’s just a prelude
A crescendo building
to the coming onslaught!
Oh for a chance
of escape
By calm waters
or mystical mountains
Away from the
stresses of conformity!
Away from the chains
of restraint!
