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3 am. Poem

I want to reach out in the dark

and find you there

my fingers groping their radar

blind creatures, bat-like

emitting unseen shrieks

to close the distance between us

softly, warmly, relying on these signals

in the pitch black of the night


Dream-like, the memory of you

persists, like fingerprints in play-dough

the comfort of knowing you are there

somewhere at the stretched arm of memory


The words that we whispered, my pen

recording your voice on paper

without even a candle to light

our way towards each other

will they still echo in the morning


Or will they disappear like dew on cobwebs

as the sun’s rays glow over the hills

finding us strangers once again

in other places, other worlds

even as the events of the night

shiver and are gone

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© Johnmichael Simon



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