The 2 AM heart
lingers a little more
on each beat
so that the in-between
silences feel all the heavier,
the pulse crawling with the time
in contrast to the mind
cycling through imaginary conversations
like a wind turbine,
the body and the spirit out of sync
in the darkness of wasted sleep.
One thought on “At Night”
Your poems are originally thought out. The words seem to flow from mind to page. Methinks they will age well. No need to sell. Only bring forth what is initiated from the ether to spoken word. The universe is listening. And has heard. As assuredly as the sounds of the morning cooing birds. Dear readers can intake and partake, meld and mold, store to drink more, savor as they build up their own hearty holistic well. Utilized to fortify the mind. Sharpening the ability to recognize the tell.