The sun has bowed out and the moon is poised,
In the dead of night, there is scarcely any noise;
Dark and misty, the clouds just an outline,
Vague twinkling points in the hazy moonshine.
A few eager bright stars show their position,
Or else they’ll be lost in the dusty cosmos.
Sleep is evasive for the insomniac
As the sounds of nature are magnified;
The hoot of an eagle owl,
Frogs croaking in shining black pools,
In the distance a lonely dog howls.
A thud, a bump, the scrape of twigs on glass;
Are those footsteps on the stone path!
Those creaking old roof timbers
And the scurrying scratching of a rat,
Sure gives one the shivers;
Upsets the karma, the nerves a jitter!
Despite the trickery of the mind,
And after another cup of tea;
Another chapter of a book to kill time,
The corridors of sleep are still elusive.
The subconscious held captive,
By continuous invasive thought.
Speculation and introspection;
Regrets for something done
And echoes of words left unsaid.
Bombarding images of life and inspiration;
Conviction and contemplation.
Sleep is now way behind schedule
For the weary intellect;
However, insomnia cannot mar the day,
Which ushers in a sense of security.
The exaggerated thoughts of midnight fade;
Negatives develop into positives
And fears are obscure in the bright of day.
In the battle of dark and light;
Light undoubtedly has its way! ❤
©Copyright. Art and Poetry by Caroline Street.