I Woke About Four Poem by John Libertus

I woke about four
and walked to the store
and bought a pack of cigarettes
and smoked them til the morning light
turned the night to glory
and wrote some broken verses
to an old, sad story
bleeding through my pen
wondering again
why love is such a lonely way for me

I must be the King that was
and the King to be
for Guenevere is off again
in other company
and all this cheerful morning light
seems like a mockery