Seven Days Of Poetry

Today I woke up,

Then I fell back asleep.

Again and again.

.

For one week,

I was falling and waking

but not in that order.

.

Where am I,

And what is this torture?

.

Daylight’s not a commodity,

But it will rise again tomorrow.

There’s no way to spend it,

There’s nothing to borrow.

.

Waking and falling but not in that order.

Who am I today,

If not just a touch older?

.

This went on for one week, then another, and another.

Soon it was 52,

Soon I was 52.

.

Today I woke up,

Then I fell back asleep.

Again and again.

 

– Viktor Kongats