Feb 14, 2021
2 min read
13 February 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: insomnia
Minute
A Poem
The hueing numbers on the clock whisper in uncontained fervor,
Yet the moon and the sky move no further;
The tremors of the grass swept bed have left me in a rhapsody,
Now the folding of the pillow beckons me behind bloodcurdling agony.
