April is Poetry Month

 

 

Insomnia

In absence of light I tried
counting raindrops,
losing tally at three thousand, two
hundred and thirty-seven, or
forty
          or so.
I was not counting them all; only
the loudest, the ones
I thought hurt the most.
The others, and I am convinced
there were many, fell
silently, normally,
               naturally.
Gravity.
I tire of counting.
              Why
do we keep track
of things
that cause
pain?

©2014 j.g. lewis

 

 

This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.

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