3 AM

it is late,

entering the witching hour,
insomnia treads,

scribes by the Lotus flower
but if i beg,

humbled as a pauper for bread
will the maiden of dreams find me...
eyes burdened,

weighted,

by the sins of hands
I do not pretend,

truths transcend beyond my reach
quiet as the night I am silent in speech
but loud enough for her to hear,

it draws her near,
poems do appear,

my dreams sincere,
she lies in wait of violet streams
and still i can not touch my maiden of dreams...

Reviews

[Bailey C. Writing]

Your poetry is always so gorgeous, I don't even know what else to say

[Kenneth The Poet]

Sweet work for sure.

[KimLove "The Beautiful ..]

A beautiful and touching write Rene, filled with such true love and devotion. In search for the one, the only one who is our one true desire. It flows so beautifully, it is always such a pleasure to read your writing. : )

[joshua deathdealer]

This is astounding Rene. Awesome piece. 'loud enough for her to hear'!!

[Maya Storm]

You had me at 3am, I see that time all too often. Insomnia the original trip... good read.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

interesting, I was just wondering if I will able to find the maiden of dreams myself and then here is your poem. A wonderful piece!

[brenda]

this is marvelous ! truly realted to people who miss the ones they love... great write:)

[Elijah Gleaves]

Insomnia was never described so gracefully. Me and the maiden of dreams are no longer on speaking terms man idk why but that b***h hates me lol. Nice poem Rene

[Ruth]

This is fascinating :) Such experiences in the dead of night, the errie time of night, can leave us in surreal gaze...so close to everything/nothing! Amazing work xx