My Nights

In the middle of my night,
still hours from day
as I toss and turn I'm wide-awake
but still in my bed I lay.

But while my comforter
keeps out the cold,
still in my wakefulness
I fear getting old.

I'm aware that the world
keeps moving along.
The wheels and ships
are humming their song.

And as the hours
bring me to dawn
I stretch, I scratch
and then I yawn.

I must join the world
and hum my song
until another bedtime
comes along.

In the middle of the night,
still hours from day
as I toss and turn I'm wide-awake.
But still in my bed I pray.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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