It is the sleep before the dawn, before the birds rustle their feather in preparation for their chorus.
It is mid evening and the sun begins sliding down to kiss his earth.
The noises of the city, the lights of cars gone by play out dreams upon the walls in fast forward.
The sound of one's own breathing in a cement carcophogus after teams have split and chow is had.
Bed is emptied of a restless soul too small to fill it whole.
Bed is entered in or sat upon, too small to support it all.
The mind wanders to the moon, adrift in the dayborn sky.
The mind wanders through the stars of that same nighted sky.