How does the evening hour
Share the day with the pre-dawn bleakness
A totally different experience
Within mere hours
And collected under the same name
And date
Slice my time
Not by the calendar
But by the way I daily experience nine thirty
Ready to sleep
At least the night version
As opposed to the nine thirty that begs the next cup of coffee
And when my desire for solitude peaks
Just at seven
After dawn
Bleary eyes
Unaware brain
My need for sharing
And company
Rises to zenith
Just as dinner hunger demands
Both a meal
And a companion
So how then can I bluntly plan
A life that reflects who I am
By the calendar’s numerals
When each day
Is so many differences
Bundled into a supposed sandwich?
Roman Ryan 