In the thinly veiled hours of night
there was nary a sound
but of the moon stretching
it’s light reaching dark corners
forgotten in the day
sleep would not come this night
with such roiling thoughts and emotions
such little minds sweeping us along
why the hurry to the other side
who are they to toy with us
when we’re already too far gone
on the precarious limb
but there’s a higher spot on the tree
where the stars feel so close
it gives a glimmer of hope
to even the darkest watcher
The Word Rummager 
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