Laying down on the ground
I inhale the fragrance of the night.

Lost in the stare of the shining orb
surrounded by twinkling stars it was.

Ignoring the sense of transience in the air
It shines with beauty and flair.

The peaceful cricket sounds seep into my soul,calming the storm within.

The gentle breeze causing the trees to sway from side to side, rustling the fallen leaves of the day.

I inhale and exhale whilst admiring the scenery.

Slowly,I fade into unconsciousness as the tune of the night time lulls me to sleep.

Sacchie..

It's the quietest time of night
Where the moon has peaked
All is hushed
And you're supposed to be asleep

But your mind plays games
Making noise that keep you awake
Mocking your restlessness and fears
Little monsters play tug-of-war
And swing from moonlit chandeliers

I Find comfort in the dark
A pitch black tranquility
But little monsters search for a thought
To keep me awake unwillingly

Heart steadies like the sea
Holding on to the evanescent dreams
Waiting for the pounce of little feet
Jumping on on you like a trampoline

They've finally tuckered themselves out
From running about
They curl up beside me
And count their sheep
Beside little monsters
I sleep

I texted him
Yeah?

Three times
Okay?

He hasnt responded in two hours
So?

Hes annoyed at me
Hes not annoyed at you

Hes mad at me
Hes not mad at you

He doesnt want to talk to me
Hes probably doing something important

I dont want to bother him
*Then don't. Hes busy, you ******* baby. Stop whining

The moon rose over troubled water.

Waves swelled on the rocks,
And the cliff crags sat there in the dark;
Brooding creatures thinking unquiet thoughts.

A seal barked,
As usual in the twilight time when fish come to surface,
And the last waking eagle went to nest.

sky’s pale till midnight,
satellite glided overhead like some
wandering speck of dust caught in
a patch of sunlight,
and the moon’s hung, like a curled
white eyelash upon the lens of
heaven. i made a wish upon her -
as you are supposed to with
fallen lashes -
though i mustn’t say it, or it mightn’t
come true.
it floats like a feather upon a
stream: hopeful. but to where? i
am not entirely sure.
hopefully
to Lune.

One by one the lights go off,
Slowly burning to black,
The kitchen stove, red with heat,
Stills to a cool whisper,
Before the daylight finishes,
It charms us one last time,
Oranges and plums twist into midnight,
The birds stop chirping,
Their chatter sways to silence as the moon takes its place,
Kids close their eyes,
Leaving another day’s mysteries unlocked,
Phones on top of couches quit buzzing,
Cars’ beaming headlights become fewer,
And fewer
Life becomes a flickering candle
Just blown out