Query any poem you want.

Sleep evades me though i tire,

Thoughts have stuck me,

Wrapped me, 

Hold me like a marsh or mire. 

My heart keeps whispering loud my deep desire. 

Against me now, 

They both conspire; 

Sleep and these questions,

Rising only higher, higher, 

I struggle round these burning thoughts of fire. 

Its 3 a.m., 

And sleep evades me though i tire..

3:00 A.M.

The restless nights when sleep eludes

And melancholy thoughts intrude

Upon the mind that, it would seem,

Rather be lost in pleasant dream.

Instead a ghostly kind of doubt

Haunts the mind when it comes out.

Not seen or felt by light of day

But in darkness holds its sway.

It convinces wisdom comes too late

And ensures that passions dissipate.

It steals strength so effort wanes

For once considered worthwhile gains.

The final chapter, still unwritten

Has imagination bitten.

If only through proximity

Wonders how it’s going to be.

Fear of falling off the ledge

Keeps most from the very edge.

Better just to wonder then

In what form will come the end.

Then dark gives way unto the dawn

Beyond the curtains never drawn.

Doubt steals away to whence it came

Until next wakeful 3:00 A.M.

Roberta Adams

03-01-2016