As the crickets make their music,
the fog pirouettes across the fields.
While moisture fights cohesion
and rolls over the edges of the clouds,
dewy-eyed and longing
for morning light.
Still and melancholy,
the lonely ache in silence.
Closed off from themselves
and trying to remain hopeful.
As time somehow marks time
louder once the sun retires.
I sit here, awake,
as I am so often in the
latest of hours,
Thinking about my life
and all I have yet to discover,
While I quietly contemplate the night.
Poem By Tammy C.