A man may live long, lonely nights
That seem to last forever,
Deprived of sleep by health and poverty
Sleep seems to greet him never.
A night may last a thousand years
Or so it seems to the poor man,
When longed for sleep just never comes
Though why, he cannot understand.
A man may roam spring's twilit paths
Though afraid of whom he'll meet,
In a desperate hope to gain fatigue
And with it, much-needed sleep.
Night-time comes, yet never goes
Or so, to the man, it seems,
He's lonely, lost, and tormented
And through the night he grieves:
He grieves for much needed sleep
Since for years he's had no rest,
He remembers the time when sleep came easy
But doesn't know when it will come next.
For night-time is a lonely time
For those who live alone,
And though he yearns for a family
He knows he'll always be on his own.
Night-time is an awful time
For a man who has no dreams,
When a single night may last for years
Or at least that's how it seems.
© Copyright 2011
© Copyright 2016 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.
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