Greetings from Spockgirl Musings, where logic rules, but the frailties of
human nature, genetic inadequacies and hormonal imbalances wreak havoc.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Whispers...

In that darkness before dawn when sleep does not come, when sleep has abandoned us for some other oblivious dreaming fool, the cold breath of lost souls descends upon our restless form and we shiver as our skin becomes as ice, our breath to mist.   As the pale light of the new day whispers through the dark void,  only then do we find the comfort of sleep. Only then do we find those few fleeting hours of forgotten bliss. 

2 comments:

thormoo said...

Wow, did you ever capture that feeling hands down. I've been there and feel like I just went back there thanks to this great little piece of writing...

Spockgirl said...

Thanks T.