Restless, listening To the hum of the air conditioner Unable to sleep
Awake and restless, The soft red glow of the clock Tells me it’s three a.m.
She is sent to bed, In these summer months, Just as the sun is breaking the horizon, Just as the light turns golden, Just as the fireflies emerge. How can she ever be convinced That there is nothing magic being left behind? Who could ever sell that lie While the earth emits sparks And clouds… Read More Poem of the Day # 12 – 7/1/17