Poem: The Wee Hours

The wee hours of the night,

Blending into morn.

Here is where my secrets are learned.


I think of my future and past,

Of life, and how it goes so fast.

I think of all the things I will never say,

Because in these wee hours, is where they stay.


I don’t often come here,

Life has kept me on my feet.

But I can’t help it,

When I grow weary of the repeat.


And so I find myself awake in the A.M.s

My thoughts become my conversations,

My body moves and dances.

I close my eyes and simply be,

During a time when I should be asleep.





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