Author’s Note: This piece is dedicated to anyone who is still awake and should not be, to anyone who is worried about what things are waiting, up ahead.
Trouble, in the nighttime, fell
Upon too wakeful brow,
Which ought to sleep
Coins cast in tainted well,
Uncertainty of where and how,
Enough to cause anyone to weep
Pitching gold piece of its own,
Came an angel of repose and rest
With curious question, whispered, quiet
“A myriad things, all unknown…
How is it you’re certain… to fail the test?
Without shred of doubt, that may deny it?”
Of course, no good answer was there, for this
And searching, mind grew sore and tired
Eyes heavy, in downward creep
The angel placed soft, loving kiss
Upon empty head, thoughts all expired
Drifting peaceful now, into the deep
Copyright 2020 Kevin Trent Boswell
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