It’s 3am and there’s a glow in the room –
or rather, there isn’t. Not tonight.
Tonight there are shadows, there are whispers,
hums through the house
bringing out the dust from the floorboards.
It’s the restlessness of emptiness,
the hours wondering when there will be movement,
when that glow will return
to lie beside you and sing slumber into your cells.
You wonder if you should catch it next time,
and propose it stay and watch over you
not for hours, but years
in return for you actively recharging
to hold back the dark.
Treeshallow Musings 