A Night Owl's Reverie

Not finding sleep, I struggle to find my place in this world.

 Once upon a midnight hour; before the breaking dawn,

whilst whip-poor-whil doth bask in shadow, before the sun would shine anon.

 

There he sat against the wall; listlessly reposed,

eyeing inveterate propensities sweat trickled down his nose.

 

The witching hour came and went; no spectres to behold,

even the gambols of the night are sequestered from the bold.

 

Conscience seers the sounds pervading; imbibed by ears of gold,

lost to the world he finds himself, a reflection to behold.

Reviews

[Morrigan Nicole]

This piece was broken up perfectly, the rhythm, the rhymes, and the format.