For day six of NaPoWriMo, of course.
I could have chosen to close my eyes
against the budding sun,
to plunge back into the sedate
chaos of improbabilities fuelled
by your nest-like warmth.
But I could not ignore the expectant
taps if your heart, so clearly audible
with only the thin calls of
morning birds in a moderate climate
to outweigh them. The fluctuations
of your sleep intimated my intrusion:
I had to check out before breakfast, or else
pay for another night (and you always claim
the blood and the bone with the flesh).
So adieu, my love, I am not fond of debts.