This is a poem about wondering what goes on outside when you can’t sleep.
Lying there,
on the comforter,
staring up,
at the ceiling.
Wondering what goes on,
in the outside world,
during,
the black hours of midnight.
Do people walk,
the lamp-lit streets,
in search of something to do?
Walking from,
place to place,
not making up,
their mind.
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