Awake to heavily pounding trains.

Pass my window, shake my spine.

Split with fluttering light of day

my head and take me down the stairs

to where my daughter taps and talks.

So little,

spritely,

light and flighty.

---

Lost and half asleep I wander

through the morning and the morning and the morning

waiting for some break to tell me

that I’ve made it, 

that I’m grand 

and not some ordinary laggard

milk-cow in a swarm of bees.

---

---

Anicca is an Australian emerging writer, who has worked at Universities for the past 10 years to support her addictions to books and horses. She has a masters in creative writing and has work published in Islet, The Sleepers Almanac and a range of Equestrian magazines.

She spends her spare time with her daughter, dogs and horses and drinking far too much tea.