I remember birdsong so loud,
maybe the starlings thought I had crusts
from another hastily made breakfast,
Just to say to myself I had eaten.
The sounds vibrated through the sparse empty room.
Maybe it was my phone breaking my peaceful overindulgence.
Alarming me to a reluctant routine.
There are too many missed calls on that dull blue glowing screen.
I looked around the room as if expecting a visitor.
Anxiety became the trespasser.
Dread knew me well,
Conversed and made confessions,
when the stillness of night came with the slow breaths before dreams.
The walls seemed thinner,
Ready to be pushed back into new exits,
more hideouts.
I remember fumbling with the phone.
The digital screen imitating the sound of pushed buttons.
Clicks,clacks, they beat, pop and pulsate,
like my ears acclimatising through a rapid ascension.
It was a low voice, familiar.
But it was too serious,
It was too early.
Too many hesitations
my mom's voice.
then mine,frustrated with the lack of sleep,
rudely asks for the point to be made.
The bird’s trill rose again,
Began a new impatient morning plea among the refuge of the oak trees.
Fumbling a rebellious arm into a blue coat,
It wasn't even cold.
Stumbling, I went zig zagging across a cracked road.
With a hangover, sweating out the impurities.
I remember silence upon entering..
Usually, I would call upstairs for a familiar voice,
For guides to beckon me to the sitting room.
I still wonder why I didn’t.
My parents stood either side of me.
Guardians of my innocence,
Sitting down seemed out of question.
"Nanna passed away last night, Ian"
"Why didn't you wake me?
I remember those last words
along with her fears of being forgotten,
But I'd told her,
She knew that first thing tomorrow,
I’d be out to get her a birthday present.
Older now, and well worn.
Now, I don't sleep so soundly.
Worried I’ll miss something.
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