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Poem 1: A Beginning

I sat and I wondered, to myself in my head, what shall I do before going to bed? "There's not much day left; there's no time ...

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Poem 338: Late Nights

Its been a series now of late nights, unmade glances, and seemingly stopped time.
I shouldn't ignore the hand on the clock that has paused again, while life has not.
But somehow, staring into thin air, it's easier to ignore and lose these hours of living.
Night after night I am caught up in this situation with bed calling my name to rest and replenish, 
but mind fighting for relief from the expected comfort of this thing called sleep, 
and I remain thinking, staring and dreaming: awake.

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