Early morning light

Pushes itself

Grudgingly

Reluctantly

Through curtains

At first in streaks

Into the room

Casting shadows

On to walls

 

The mirror, lamps

The kettle, the table

Caught in silhouette

The T.V. always

On standby

Ever ready to burst into life

It’s red pin point light

Ever present in the bleak

Black darkness

Amongst

The land of shadows

 

In this room of beige

Built for comfort and

For ease

Its blandness is reflected

In a thousand other hotels

In a thousand other locations

 

But only this shadow

 Is for this room

For this place

For now

A show for our eyes only

To pick out

To receive

The land of shadow

The land of make believe

Heralding for spring.....

Despite the cold

A very early

Morning call