4am

Here I sit at 4am, perched at a windowsill,
Engulfed by the blackness of the night, so alive and honest and real,
Behind the glass a birds song sings and echoes in my ears,
It pulls my thoughts to calmer places, where peace and whispers live

The edges of the skies are burning,
Set a light and slowly growing,
Like the ocean's waves as high tide rolls in,
And the shores that keep on flowing

Still, small shards of stars shine on as one light cloaks another,
A delicate breeze awakens the trees like a child to it's mother,
I see my hand held up in desire, the morning chill now on my flesh,
There's an undeniable urge to wander and it beats strongly in my chest

And in this very moment now the thought arises of a fellow being,
Perched somewhere at a window sill, at 4am in the morning.