Write when you’re sad-
Sad that you’re right.
I am running out of excuses

During this midnight hour
birds fall silent,
crickets speak up in bursts of power,
And my worries refuse to fall asleep.

I lay awake and count stars,
Believing in planets never before seen
And plans for our future
That remain only dreams.

The evening wind plunges ahead
and slips over young skin.
Hugs tightly for a moment-
And withdraws after patience wears thin.


Published by Anna Buck

"everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."

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