And, once again, it’s 3 am,
And you’re too tired to sleep
And find yourself in awe of them
Who cry but never weep.
And so you put the kettle on
And make a cup of tea
And think about the life that gone
And that still yet to be.
That brings about both pain and grief,
But what’s the point of that?
It’s just a matter of belief
That’s something’s where it’s at.
And so you douse your bedside light
And marvel at the endless night.
Photo by Didier VEILLON on Unsplash
Nocturne
