Night
The story of half our lives
Is nighttime’s story, darkness
We sleep, make love, perhaps
Make babies, do the touching
And talking that’s the work of intimacy
We dream dreams of fear, of jumbled
Bits of reality, of muddled absurdity
And of flying if we’re lucky
For some, nights are workdays
In the shadows where day is night
When do they dance and drink
A beer with friends as I do
Reporting and complaining about
The shit and blessings of life
Falling night pushes away all but a small
Architecture of quiet around me
There I’m in myself
Liking the surprises of imagination
What bubbles from the inside
As only can happen in the night
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