The Witching Hour


The witching hour,
Sleep seems far.
Trains of thoughts,
Not just the one,
Go chugging ahead in the dark.

A journey tough.
Convoluted and rough.
Too many tracks.
Mixed signals.
Lonely and stark.

Crowd me not with fears.
Keep away the tears.

Shunt them out.
Stall the pace.
Resorting to emergency brakes.
It’s not defeat
Just fatigue.
It will be sorted out.

For now please-some space.
Sleep-a blessed escape.

We’ll set the pace,
On tomorrow’s face.
Find a way to feel again.
Find a way to deal again.

Poetry Month.Day 13.


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