I got up and did not sleep.
Rather than lie there
Listening to your
Crouping coughs
Through the long night.
Hours ago, I closed the doors,
Ran downstairs
To not hear you.
Sleeping through your
Own weakness.
I could not
For my own.
What takes on the grating angst
And cures a broken wing
What fears a long night ending
And a longer weekend not?
Who says: You are perfect
Even when the mind's echoes titter?
Who believes that tomorrow
Will bring the rise of the sun
And spring against the
Cynicism of the frozen snowbanks?
Against the 3 a.m. doubts
I leaned my weary old self
So that when the morning came
I could be your steady warrior again.
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A qualitative search for normality
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