Sonnet at 4.30 am
Written by Danny Broderick
A fitful sleep eventually comes apartAmid the hidden details lying strewn
Around the spaces in an empty room
That tug in silent clutches at the heart.
A curtain hangs bedraggled somewhere, torn,
A broken clock disdainfully affords
A look stuck at the moment it records,
That watches minutes passing into dawn.
And these are the remains that bear the mark
Of years reduced to nothing in the night,
And life that gropes for meaning in the dark
Anticipates the sun’s warm, healing light,
That bears nobody malice at its hour,
And holds the course of time within its power.