It’s late
My room is dark
And I’m lying here
With this notebook
And a pencil.
I can’t sleep
But I’m tired
I can’t concentrate
Yet I’m thinking.
Wondering whose going to read this
Who’s going to care
And who will comment.
It’s raining
And my window is open.
Outside it is about 40 degrees
But I’m not cold
And I love the smell
Of wet asphalt.
I hear music
But it’s not 3 Doors Down
Or Trapt or even
Dank.
No, it’s just the rain
Those tiny little rain drops.
Falling from the clouds
That hide my shining stars
And hitting my bedroom’s outer walls.
I try to find a pattern
In the way they fall
But then find I can’t.
I just lay here
And listen to the falling
Of the tiny little rain drops.
I feel the chill of the night air
But at the same time
The heat of my comfortable bed.
My eyelids start to drop
More frequently
And each time
They open slower than the last.
Finally I fall asleep
To the beautiful music
Of those tiny little rain drops.

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