These Last Seven Minutes

Quiet soft down faux down
pressing the head into the pillow
enveloped in a cocoon of sleep
soon to be that is
soon to become sleep
he became that
and does so on a daily
or a nightly rather
but for now
these last seven minutes
he loves the push and pull down of down
of pillow and layers over him

stomach is tingling where her arm was
memory of what has been
premonition of what is to be
tingling stomach of a cuddle
lack of pressure from no hug
that which is missed
no bullseye
but also desired
and good things happen in time

the winding thoughts
they swirl swirl
they chink and they resolve and dissolve
with patience and breath
but not always
no no no no
some catch in the net and stick
dreams rotting to nightmares ruminating
reitterating in the light

focus on the breath
it should be an ocean wave
feeling the energy of the day expel
from the head down through the feet
the last opportunity to push the muscles
last ticking moments for a stretch
before the midnight
before the closed noon
before the darkened mid day
and strangely somehow
the end

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