Dead of Night
A poem about waking up in the middle of the night.
Stars or street lamps? The light from the window gently wakes me.
I roll over, tug at the covers—why can't the gaps in the blinds be narrower?
Listening to the rhythmic hum of the fan, I wonder away.
Evening air is always chillier, a refreshing cool—it clears the mind.
Noise of daily thoughts and worries drift away into the dust of the room.
Can this peace last forever?
Each time the question arises, I close my eyes and sleep once more.
About the Creator
Madison "Maddy" Newton
I'm a Stony Brook University graduate and a communications coordinator for the NYS Assembly. Writing is one of my passions, and Vocal has been a great creative outlet for me.
Follow me on Instagram! https://www.instagram.com/madleenewt120/
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Comments (4)
Good
It sounds like what I do when I first get in bed at night. but it is the hum of my oxygen machine replaced by the hum of a fan. I have solar lights in my room at night now. Excellent acrostic that I could relate to. Nicely Done!!
well written
What a lulling, tranquil poem.