and it ends
the time in between
the night and day
when the sun gets tired
and the moon wakes
i sit and stare
what will i dream of
when i tire?
maybe it will be
the time we got lost
and couldn't find our way
back home in the
warmth
or maybe
it will be the
same dream i have every
night
when i fight
the hoards off with
a single smile and
it ends
This poem is about:
Me