What a Time to Be Alive

It’s 2 am in the morning
And I’m shivering silly from cold,
Blubbering with fever, 
And that cricket just won’t stop chirping --
How lovely that my sister is snoring a storm.
But laying amongst the navy blue,
I notice that street lights
Have never been more brighter at this time --
Even when cars won’t pass for hours,
When city-goers are drenched in sleep,
How gallant that they still shine for them!
There is only so much time
That sunrays would cross upon my highways,
Amid all the speed bumps and pot holes,
Before the traffic lights never blink again:
How soothing it is to drink warm honey tea
For a sore throat at 2 am in the morning;
How loving it is to be in a snug embrace
With a blanket of cotton --
What noble valor that a creature
Dares to sing alone to those
That may not listen;
What a relief that a banshee’s call
Flaunts my sister’s gift
Of dreaming.
The split between dusk and dawn
Is shone if you open them just a crack --
Sickness may be heavy
But the smell of fried eggs in the morning
Is more uplifting than the moon;
Grudges as solid as candle wax
But sleep can melt them down to nothing
Even without the sun:
When there is crying, there is handkerchiefs
When there is silence, there is listening
Where there is thawing, there is spring.
When there are pieces, there is glue
When there are sore cheeks, there is laughing
When there are roads, there is life.
And when there is space, there is home.
My wonderful sleepers,
It’s 2:30 am in the morning
And I have never been cozier,
Coughing with such volume
That my sister flinched awake --
The cricket has now joined an orchestra.
And in just a few hours,
Amid the hushed darkness,
Again the sunrise will greet us.
Her awesome, glowing cheeks
Bestowing her rays
Along our highways
Of joy!
This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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