4:00
4:00..
In the morning..
Is this when poetry is most deep.. Most meaningful..
Or when the road to sleep is most steep..
Or when my brain cells decide to mingle..
Because in a sense..
Sleep for me is now something i use in future tense..
And at my body’s health and expense..
I find myself..
Lying awake..
Doing nothing but mental intake …
And i guess the one speaking..
Is morning silence.
This poem is about:
Me