I listen to the crickets gently chirping.
Frogs keep me awake with their annoying croaking.
My heart feels like it is being pounded,
A distant siren of the night is being sounded.
The crescent moon rises serenely over the water.
I hear the muffled cries of my sleeping daughter.
And I believe there is someone else,
As close to me as my pulse,
Who has not yet gone to sleep.
Night sounds whisper from somewhere deep.
well, my second nature is also never sleeping without grasping tough my pericardium to shut down all emotions left behind the yesterday's bustle. . . the piece which strikes a chord. Cheers, alex
Ah, John . . . You believe(?) "there is someone else, / As close to me as my pulse, / Who has not yet gone to sleep."
Ya got me. Is there, or is there not someone there, or is you sleeplessness wishing there was. Sorry man, I'm a bit dense at times. Some say I'm that way all the time.
Okay, after I wrote the above I "got" it. Yes, she is there listen to daughter's restless sleep as are you.
WHISPERS OF THE HEART is artist and author J. Allen Wilson's second book of poetry.It can be autographed and shipped within 48 hours of order. NO LONGER AVAILABLE.
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And by the end you really get beside yourself. ;-)
Ron
Ya got me. Is there, or is there not someone there, or is you sleeplessness wishing there was. Sorry man, I'm a bit dense at times. Some say I'm that way all the time.
Okay, after I wrote the above I "got" it. Yes, she is there listen to daughter's restless sleep as are you.