at midnight, the world quiets
the flowers close
a baby cries
a wolf howls, maybe,
in the distance.
someone turns in her bed
her mind awake
with millions of colors
and millions of dreams
a future calls, maybe,
in the distance.
someone lays in her bed
thinking about 6am
and the to-do list
and the endless journey
there seems to be
to tomorrow.
It’s midnight,
and everything is dark,
and the future
is hard to see.
5/52.