Night Time

Insomnia. I get up, put on coat and sit outside in the cool air. Cloudless night. History hangs overhead in full stops glowing in an infinite dark. No wind overwrites the quiet. There is only the chatter of my own mind traced in scribbles across unfolding time. Occasionally a face forms, lingers then dissolves into a residue of feelings left in a forgotten corner of my life. All is shadow, misted hauntings in empty rooms. I reach out for something firm to hold onto and feel only my own weight pushed into the chair. Then, as if breaking loose, a sudden rush of recognition - there are people who love me.