that night with no sleep
it rest in my head
with the smell of cigarettes
floating through the air
ladders were placed at a window
we made cookie dough i believe
around midnight the real night began
poems read allowed
with words lingering
far into to the night
out in the cold many cigarettes
smoldered in each hand
i lost count as to how many
after three
on the brink of dawn
i sat with coffee in hand
on top of my cold car roof
waiting for the sun to rise
clever words come to mind
as old acquaintances come
and judge me for sitting
and writing about what i see
after a walk
to clear me thoughts
i decide on donuts
with box in hand i climb
up the ladder to a dear friends room
curl up in bed
there i stay till noon
that sober night is my favorite
to remember
not a thought of sleep
only words carefully written
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
that night with no sleep
it rest in my head
with the smell of cigarettes
floating through the air
ladders were placed at a window
we made cookie dough i believe
around midnight the real night began
poems read allowed
with words lingering
far into to the night
out in the cold many cigarettes
smoldered in each hand
i lost count as to how many
after three
on the brink of dawn
i sat with coffee in hand
on top of my cold car roof
waiting for the sun to rise
clever words come to mind
as old acquaintances come
and judge me for sitting
and writing about what i see
after a walk
to clear me thoughts
i decide on donuts
with box in hand i climb
up the ladder to a dear friends room
curl up in bed
there i stay till noon
that sober night is my favorite
to remember
not a thought of sleep
only words carefully written
one sleepless night of summer, a favorite story
