[center]
The beginning was quiet and tender.
Footfalls in frenetic patterns filled the streets
below, hunting for dreams
in the precarious orbit of breaking hours.

Limbs of assorted intent took dawn by the horn,
but I snuggled beneath the dragnet of awkward
blanket, peering lazily at numberless sprawling forms
on the streets below and away.

As dawn lurked around the darkly episodes
of previous hours, dreams hooted and screeched and clattered
on the furtive flange of fate, yet I remained immune to the
emerging images of the impending day.

I heard and felt all but lay still like a foetus
in an etiolated uterus. The hours heaved and
moved, but I was lodged in the pulsating
warmth of restful coverlet.

Through the apertures of my walls, the sun shot
its rays like lightning without the
accompanying rumbling. Then the morning
stirred like a convalescing
patient.

My eyes, sleep-infested now, were x-rayed as I huddled in the
thick sheet like a chick in a hatching frenzy,
but blindly I extorted a minute after
another from the charging rays!

In the end, one last dart like a stab prized my eyelids apart
to the difference in things. I tore through the fluffy
hours only to behold the morning streaking ahead
with its dawn-abiding lot at the crest of its maiden quests.[/center]