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Insomniac

The sky turns scarlet
And then to black
Purple haze clouds
Minds covered with shrouds
And put on the shelf for the night.
But hark, one’s thought waves still
Resonate in the still night air,
A congregation of ideas
Connecting one insomniac to the other
With revelations that with each new morning
Are forgotten anew.




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MeganCahill This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Sept. 24, 2010 at 7:57 pm:
Wow! You are a beautiful poet yourself. I can relate to this too - my best poems always come in the middle of the night when I cannot find sleep. I love your metaphors and way of speaking. Truly a lovely and well written piece.
 
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