Dawns a door, the sun it´s lock.
Sleeping through light or dark
I try not to be late for the feast.
On the boats that have never touched water.
Sweet dreams, an internal holiday.
Outside the door animals scrape.
Dawn is on us like a spotlight.
Hunger owns us.
The clock hands shake.
We are witness to an abundance of
empty kitchens craving to bake.
Early light is no comfort.
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