Ben Paynter - 5 a.m.

a clutch of nothing, you wish
for the dream to return, to
feel the tip of touch and let
the fingers dance mad once

again, it's night and I am
climbing stairs to the attic
of my mind, where you visit
from time to time, I have

pictures wrapped in cherry
cloth and stones to throw
your way if you chance
to visit this place, again i

wonder where dreams go
to die, picture room of
stone with one chair, a mirror
facing it, growing old, and me

repeating, repeating, wake
up, wake up, with lips and
mouth and how the mind melts
at this, just a moment

it begs to breathe and
coughs and I am four years
old and running to the river, you
see yourself in ripples, water

droplets pinned to earth, see
yourself calling out, wake
up, wake up,
the meter's running.

Ben Paynter

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/5-a-m-2/