Cynthia Amador

Waiting for the Morning

As everyone sleeps the night
comes alive with sound
the walls creak pipes murmur
clock beats away sleep
the fridge motor competes
with snoring from the bedroom
and wins as it rises a pitch
the heaters expand cold air crackles
power lines buzz or is it beetles?
A neighbor drives up at 3 a.m.
headlights piercing through blinds
the engine chortles and dies
the outer door heaves open and
closes with a sigh.
Heavy shoes rush up and are silenced
by a carpet upstairs and footsteps shuffle
to bed complaining with loud creaks.
The cold seeps under the door
through the walls to fingers and feet
fighting the heat from a body
nearing defeat waiting for the morning
to put the night to sleep.

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