| Midnight Boredom |
| I sit and stare, Wondering if you’ll ever come. The clock has gotten tired and has gone to bed. My fingers are sleepy, but my eyes are not. I try reading the souls of others to keep me awake, That works for a while. The small hours of the morning are not welcoming to lovers, They usually talk of sorrow and despair. My pale green complexion is turning to mud. Day will shine its smile soon, but the Moon is my husband. And the stars, our children. It’s time for some rest, Or some caffeine. Maggie |
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