Imagination

The Illusional Twilight-4:28am

The faintest of words tugged at my brain

Beckoning me to write this down.

I awoke,

to the strongest message

punctuating my head:

Wake up! Eat something! You're starving!

Right.

The faintest of memories stirred in my head—

I didn't have dinner last night.

I had been buried

alive,

felt like I could barely survive.

Bleary-eyed, I heard

something growling in the silence.

Louder than the strongest beast

to have ever existed on this planet.

As if on cue, my doorknob turned.

I turned—my mother emerged,

with a drink and some bread in hand.

There were snowflakes on the bread.

I haven't got the faintest clue

as to why they didn't melt

or why they weren't cold.

I thought they came

all the way from North Pole?

But then, they were crunchy,

and oh, so sweet.

They kept drifting—down

down,

onto my bed, silently.

I stared,

at the faint traces of them

scattered across the mattress.

Like flour, like snow.

My mind is in a jumble.

They don't belong here,

and neither should they be.

I bunched up fistfuls of tissue

And tried to collect them

But all they did was slip through my fingers.

Strong-willed and determined,

like sand

falling

freely

through an hourglass.

Fine

So be it.

Let it be.

But I couldn't.

For then began

the faintest sounds

of birds chirping.

Of course,

it's already 5 in the morning.

I wanted to fall back asleep,

but the power of inspiration was stronger.

Words arrived and lingered

on my mind.

And so, with faint lines of sunrays appearing,

I finished this poem and got ready for the morning.