“Two Twelve”
Its two twelve
and though that is the date
and not the time,
it’s still raining, a midnight rain…
The streets are cold
and the night seems so lonely.
Signs swaying in the breeze…
Cars pass by-fast and unknown,
unaware of my piercing eyes.
Sometimes I wonder – the strangers,
behind the wheel;
are they heading home, to greet company?
or leaving unwanted despair?
I know how my eyes felt,
late two twelve…
and as the rain still falls,
that “midnight rain”.
I wonder just how my clouds will pass.
When I find myself facing,
two thirteen…
77-78
Jeffrey Byron Queenan
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