there would be no sleep
this night
wracked with reckoning
futile cup of decaf cooling
minutes become
memories murmuring
recriminations reverberate
bowed head nodding
over quiescent keyboard
as vivid visions vanish
one
        into
                another
hesitant hours hovering
errors echoing
in void of forgiveness
aching agony of awareness
becomes brutal
he receives respite
as night became day
he understood what truth
could be known
he has only himself
and the day before him

and so he lay down
and so his eyes close
in the light of morning

a grey dove now coos
on the deep cream painted fence
neath a light cloud sky

living next the sea you get so much more than sunup and sun down
you get Moon tides, daily tides, low tides, high tides, tides life rides and tides that deposit the dead.