Four am, sky alight
red fingers of sun’s stretch.
dawn chorus hurdy gurdy.
I dream of foreign lands,
stranger’s hands that lack
a pathway back, to you.
Across London you sleep
untouched by brain twisting,
that indelible imprint of us
etched on the filigree of time
our recurring regurgitated rhyme
with no hope of erasure .
Victoria Mosley 
I read this earlier but must have been asleep at the time and as i re-read I remembered what a great piece this is.
Regards j.
I only just wrote this one John, the other is Dream Yoga…….or there is Sleep stalker …….I write so many poems I often run out of names for them 🙂
It is indeed a great piece, I like the subtle rhymes that make it flow like a wistful morning.
Thank you 🙂