3 AM

lights low,

what’s happening in here

no one might ever know.

The cast of a dozen stories

one day to the next,

perhaps a romance again.

Seems easy to dream

when the lover is alone

hopeful she might understand.

Its 3 am blues are alive

waiting alone to feel

some fatigue beyond the daily drain.

A couple of movies later

sleep still stays in seclusion

his mind a travel beyond the real.

Play some blues he asked

and let the melody

take his reacting mind away again.

It’s 3 am and he really doesn’t

care about the morning,

as long as the words speak

as I am.


© Thom Amundsen 4/2021