With every quiver of the curtain
That hangs lifelessly
In the way of the breeze.
Held by the bar atop the window.
The million thoughts,
And even more doubts,
As it takes hold of the room
Where I try so desperately to sleep.
As the curtain swooshes,
A breeze let in, unwanted.
A breeze, I can’t bear to feel,
A breeze, that should kill itself.
The wind blows the curtain,
Just the tad bit more,
And the moonlight takes place again,
A darkness engulfed by the rising peace.