This Is My Time: Ode To First Light

This Is My Time: Ode to First Light

Lauren Sisley

At first light I am alone, but also accompanied by characters, stories, and worlds borne of an imagination. Burning a candle on both ends I slave away in my den breaking only for sips of tepid coffee. The other members of my family are fast asleep in their beds. They dream as I toil in my craft spinning words into sentences and sentences into stories.

This is my time.

I write to stay afloat. An affection has been forged between language and my fingertips. With each swipe of a pen my hands breathe life into letters. The pulse behind each syllable aches to be heard.

This is my time.

By noon, I know, this won’t be true. A lunch will need made. A baby will need dressed. Laundry will need folded. Plants will need watered. That’s why I awake at first light ready and armed with a coffee, pen, paper, and computer.

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