February is tomorrow
Is October and is yesterday.
The winds start to chill and I can't find sleep.
So I'll walk down the dark streets to the corner
And wait for nothing and no one.

Silence greets the drifter as she steps lightly on the cement
Hoping to create a footprint deep enough to leave a mark.
But instead creating a slight wind that taps windows of sleeping scouts
Dreaming of leaving. Waking to nothing.

Sleep can't find the wicked and the wicked can't find sleep.
Insomnia strikes again and this time
It may stay.