Hours
Two, Three, Four am the morning seeps by
Dreams and thoughts, through my head they fly
The captivating power, of the world at peace
The stress and frustrations begin to cease
Tranquility, curiosity, and wonder
My mind alive like a rolling thunder
These hours have a way, to keep me till dawn
They give emotions a quill and paper to write on
The part of day where time loses form
Where you're free from the world and free from its storm
Where time stands still, but flies by so fast
Where you look to the future and reflect on the past
With arms outstretched, the sun hugs the night
I keep warm by the fire's light
The world awakens and the sirens abound
The painters, the poets, their creativity drowned
Up the stairs I go, and crawl into bed
At the ceiling I stare, the thoughts now have fled
I close my eyes and life fades away
Back to the dreams my mind can now stray
It's the writers and visionaries, who at this time flourish
The silent-seekers and over-thinkers, whose minds are now nourished
Though odd to some, we like these hours best
Yes we love these hours, so unlike the rest