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Some Things About Insomnia are Beautiful.

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In the five A.M. near-light,
you were distant, hard to see.
From my window I watched you sit alone,
cloaked in black or blue or something dark.
I'd heard your voice before,
longed to hear its unique melody once more.
But you didn't hear my silent plea,
so intrigued by the horizon were you.
I watched you for a lovely moment,
a strange hope filling my chest.
And then, perhaps drawn by a sound,
I moved from the window and didn't return.
I wonder if you found what you were looking for,
deep in that brightening horizon.
I wonder how long you watched,
before you flew away.



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