In The Ebb And Flow

I do miss being young and feeling compelled to stay up out of enchantment. Be awake so I could witness the world in its intimate dark blue hours. See the stoplights flicker in performance for no one. Feel that miserable pang of loneliness and reverie, unabashed at the minutes that would tick by. Prop my window up and listen to the trees steeping in their shadows. It wasn't a question of how I'd make it through the next day on so little sleep. Of course I would, and even feel the romance of a secret for it. Now I am older and more loyal in my sleep, both in contented fulfillment or overwhelm. I'm so much more aware of the time that passes; even fear seeing the single digits of morning, who used to be infrequent friends. I don't miss how desperate those nights would sometimes feel, but I do miss the freedom, the spark, of staying up late to do nothing with the world.