Three in the Morning

It's three in the morning, I'm up all alone.
Outside I can hear the wind and its consistent moans.
The room is almost pitch black, there's only one light aglow.
Contemplation is easy when my busy life's finally slowed.
The air that surrounds me is uncomfortably cold,
I pick up a warm blanket, it does its job, though it's old.
Nestling under the warmth of my covers,
I close my eyes and my mind starts to wander.
I think of the stars and endless galaxies above,
I think of the meaning of life, I think of lust, think of love.
I try to make a list of the good things in my life,
But my mind drifts to the worst, to all my troubles and strife.
I think of the soldiers, fighting in some faraway country,
I think of taking a trip, embarking on some special journey.
I try to remember all of my favorite things as a child,
I try to get that song out of my head that's been driving me wild.
I think of those loved ones that have sadly passed on,
I meditate on lost love and time that now is foregone.
I think of the future, where I'll be in ten years,
If I'll be courageous enough to face all my fears.
I think of fairytale stories, of royal queens and their kings,
I imagine getting married, I picture dresses and rings.
It doesn't take too long until sleep captures me,
Thanks to the thoughts conjured up in the morning at three.