a.m.

wild singing - she's insomnia's Angel
the wind in my electrical cable
the milk as it spills on the table
from my nerve clumsy hands
in the morning.

 

Tilly and The Nursery pt 1

 

“Nervous are we, Tilly?” The Matron’s voice filled the small room.
Hearing her own name spoken out loud (and so informally!) made Tilly blush. “Well, yes,” she gasped out a relieved laugh, “I suppose I am rather, silly of me I know.”
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