Its Six A.M. Poem by Greg Davidson
Its Six A.M.
It's six A.M., near break of day.
Warm beneath my blankets I stay.
I hear the traffic blocks away,
Whining on their ribbon of grey.
Windows shut against the day,
They grumble as they make their way,
Fueled by need and tepid latte,
Towards their drudge for weekly pay.
Towards their drudge for weekly pay,
Fueled by need and tepid latte,
They grumble as they make their way,
Windows shut against the day.
Whining on their ribbon of grey,
I hear the traffic blocks away.
Warm beneath my blankets I stay.
It's six A.M., near break of day.
Well expressed. Your use of repetition caught me and I slowed down to re-read. I like.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:08:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Like Pam, I was impressed with the reversal used. It fits the sense of the poem perfectly. And I might say it's an impressive piece. Goes in my favourites list. Will catch up on more of your work later.