Late night poem in bed
For the late-night dreamers and criers.
I know
This will probably get lost,
Lost in translation or tangled up in your thoughts,
But I hope when you find it,
It also finds you back.

This is my virtual hug but also a reminder
To allow yourself to dream,
Allow your mind to wander.
That’s what keeps your spark lit;
And be your guide forever,

Through the ups and the downs,
Wherever life takes you
Don’t you ever forget, that Gods always with you.


Truly,
With every word written,
Big or small,
I hope it fuels your imagination
And ignites your soul.
I know it feel heavy
Carrying the weight of the world
It can get so lonely
But know you’re not alone

So dare to dream, gentle soul
Hold on to them real tight
Let the midnight mooon reaffirm your existence,
And lift you toward the light,
Even for a moment,
Or only just for the night,
Until you finally break free, and everything feels Alright. ✨

I was late
for the riot of kookaburras
this morning,
Which exacerbated
the pain in my big toe
as I ran, forming
a bruise on my left heel
in compensation. The ripple effect; scoring!

We are late-bloomers,
If you will.
We’ll get there.
Eventually,
A little off? Yes,
Still, In time.
No rush.
Don’t be scared.
The house, the kids,
The job, the love.
We’ll get there.
We’ve been here.
We are just late bloomers,
trust the process,
We’ll be okay,
I just know.

What an upsetting time of night
to rid myself of all the memories I’ve locked safely away
in my closet.

I’m listening to a song,
that’s captured my mood.
What’s the singer saying?
If it knew, I’d sing along.
but the slurry words elude.
It’s an artistic choice, I suppose,
and I don’t require deeper meanings.

A squirrel stands defiantly in the middle of the path,
A tiny, furry-tailed, usurper - quite out of the routine.
“Hello fluffy rodent,” I baby-sing, as it watches me,
“What an odd meeting, are you hoping for a feeding?”
I try to pass but it jittery-scampers and cuts me off.
"I have a test, get out of the way, you crazy nut-thief”
I glance at my watch; l might really be late to lab.

So, I leave the path to the possibly rabid rat.
if it comes at me, on-God, I swear I’ll kick it,
launch it ballistically into the evergreen thicket.
How I long for a coffee, hot and sweet,
or a sandwich and salty chips - that would be nice -
but then I would be late for class. I sigh in defeat.
It started to drizzle. This afternoon will be miserable.
.
.
*Songs for this:
Out of Myself by Bebo Best & The Super Lounge Orchestra
Jettin' by Digable Planets
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_15.mp3