Another night that offered an abundance of repetitive regret but an absence of restorative rest. I settled into my morning futon of forgiveness. Maybe it’s the darkness alone that haunts my mental gravitron and a nite-light would do the trick. My eyes close with the force of I have solved this sleepless riddle. But as moments move from morning’s maybe, fixation’s drought replaces optimism.
Contact the Author
Website/blog: www.DoylestownDogs.com “The Writing Purchase”