My Heart And Soul For You

Twelve in the morning

Twelve in the morning is my favorite hour

Sour darkness, but I've always loved sour

I can sit in this chair, cold, yet not enough

This little lantern, never to be snuffed
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Though I believe fire hates Thomas

He took away it's relevance

Because why use fire when you can flip a switch

And why use a shovel to dig a ditch?
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History is important, but how do we keep it alive

That's a story for another time

Twelve twenty is when I began writing this, it's now nine minutes later

My eyes not yet burn
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Twelve in the morning is my favorite hour

Interesting thoughts flood in and over me they tower

But just to protect me from the bleakness of reality

It is much more fun to let your mind run free
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I sat down to write this, because I love to think

But at the moment I have no paper, only ink

I didn't want these thoughts to slip away

As I'm welcomed to the start of a new day
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I want to remember what it feels like at twelve in the morning

To replay the sound of the little chirps and the rings

I wonder what animal or insect they come from though

I suppose I might not be meant to know
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It's a surreal feeling to know that everyone in your home is asleep

And yet you walk around the house while they continue to dream

And you get to wonder what their brain had conjured up for them

And if in the morning you'll remember to ask again
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My favorite hour is twelve in the morning

I'll keep staring at this lantern and think

I will wonder and wonder what today will bring

And what you, right there, are pondering

**** I wrote this one a very loonnngggg time ago! I just thought it would be really cool to post on here, mainly because of the fact that it is so old. I really enjoyed this one and it feels more like a story than my poems normally do. Let me know what you think!****