Wee Hours
The house is still asleep.
Peaceful.
It’s dark outside.
The stove light seems bright,
as well as the green numbers
on the clock, stereo and microwave.
I sit in my comfy chair
with my laptop glowing
and my cat purring on my lap.
There’s a chill in the air
and my bare legs are covered
by an afghan my sister had crocheted.
The only sounds are the clock ticking
the refrigerator humming
and an occasional creak of the house.
Knick-knacks, furniture, pictures on the wall
are all just shadows.
I sip the last of my hot tea with cream and sugar.
Maybe I can get some more writing in
before the troops arise.
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