The morning hums
with bright demands.
But my body is anchored.
Tethered to warmth.
Tethered to quiet drifts.
To dreams still pulsing
behind my eyelids.
Soft echoes from elsewhere
remain untouched…
by clocks or consequences.
Sheets whisper, Stay.
And I listen.
Outside, the world clatters.
Awake.
But I am a hush.
Perfectly still.
Beneath the covers.
By Sarah © 2025
Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt: clinomania (57 words)*
*includes title
By Sarah 