Insomniac

 

No kiss to wake the early shine

or to embrace the accents of coffee

‘nd the sweet ash of early morning drags

No touch to rouse noon appetites

or to swell amongst the mockingjays 

Whilst the he-bird sings so whimsically

No love to sleep the silent eye

or streetlights to silhouette distant lullabies

sung by passing insomniacs whispering in the night.