On late nights when sleep evades me,
I imagine rising out of my body,
Floating up and up towards the ceiling,
And passing into the apartments above.
Gently I observing my neighbors —
They laugh absently at some late night show,
Or have a somber chat in bed —
Then finally I crest the rooftop as I still rise.
Above me the eternal sky breaks out,
And below I watch the street lamps
As the punctuate the never-sleeping cars;
I wonder where they go —
From the closing bar or perhaps to the night shift?
I continue to rise,
And the societal grid begins to fade,
Smearing into a blurred, dim glow;
I realized the stars above
Have begin to look more like home,
And still I rise.
YOU ARE READING
Head in the clouds
PoésieA meandering collection of poems written across times of longing, loneliness, and love. Thanks for reading :)
