We despise the sunset;

the night taunts our sanity.

Twilight beckons our slumber;

we are not ready to sleep.

We seek the sunrise;

the day pretends to matter.

Gusting winds hide our voices;

pouring rain drowns our presence.

Time spent walking,

on the wrong side of the road.

Meaning is a pot of gold

at the end of the mythical rainbow.

Published by David W. Jones

Writer. Artist. Sleepless Blogger. Wrestling junkie. Comic-Book Nerd. Every moment is a story View all posts by David W. Jones