Sleepless nights

The cold wind howls and moans,
Breaking trees and scattering leaves like an angry child, In full tantrum,
Moonlit clouds race across a darkening sky, In the distance a metallic sign screeches in the dark,
Doors and windows creak and scream,
Trees reaching out with shadowy hands,
Tapping for my attention,
Tingles rush through me, from feet to head,
Like a million ants on march,
Ashen cloaked figures mill out side these curtain less window, Vanishing in the illumination of my room,
And return once extinguished,
I lay and count the moments till sunrise,
Golden fringes of night above the hills,
My eyes fixed on their horizon,
Rain lashes against glass panes,
Echoing like tapping claws,
All my nightmares haunt,
Through the witching hour and beyond,
Till sunlight rays chase away,
Bringing in the new day,
And so to end,
This sleepless night.

I dont know. I guess I had a sleepless night during a storm, mainly due to the bungalow style home I lived it was on the verge of collapsing, rotting wooden frames, it was staff accommodation, and I have seen worse. This was one of those poems written while drunk, decoded and rewritten sober.


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