I creep through the house in the dark morning And find time lying abandoned in pools of night: Tossed into corners, scattered on the floor, jumbled on the chairs. I take an hour, maybe two, and use them for my own purposes. Who will know? I will. My conscience nags. “Sleep,” it says. “Or talk. Make coffee smells. These hours belong to someone else.” “No,” I say. “They are mine. Because I took them.” … [Read more...]