Across the street, voices
With a beer tinged lilt talk of mysteries
Immature and dreams deeply felt, vaguely
Seen. They drift into the hum of silence,
reminiscing youth of a future not yet lived.
The birds skitter with the stars, twinkling tunes
in echo light - a tweaking of the dawn
that’s yet to come in the hours I hope to sleep -
the mind needs calm exhaustion, but mine
has thoughts of a thousand ifs
aswirl in the multiverse of night.
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