Kammy writes

BEFORE MIDNIGHT

The hour tilts, a quiet hinge
between what was
and what might be.

Shadows loosen from the walls,
softening the edges of the day
as if time itself were exhaling.

I stand in the last light
of the almost-gone,
feeling the weight of the minutes
slip like rings from my fingers.

Nothing ends abruptly
it fades, it leans,
it listens for permission.

Before midnight,
the world holds its breath,
a single heartbeat
caught between footsteps,
between the closing door
and the one not yet opened.

And in that narrow pause
I find myself,
half rooted in memory,
half reaching toward the unnamed dawn,
learning that change is not a strike of a clock,
but the trembling second just before.

©Mukami Kinyua
25th Nov 2025.