Hi.  This is just a short, stream of conciousness poem.  You know the
thoughts you get when you have insomnia?  Yes, there is a copyright.  I
just choose to ignore it.

One a.m.

Finally, I have someone to hold against the world.
The memory grows cold and sharp.
I'm left here in a field of snowy sheets.
The nights are the worst.
At night, nothing shields me from my thoughts.
It's not my heart that I miss the most.
It's the piece of my mind you live in now.
Concentrate.
Concentrate on the cars, the shouts.
Concentrate on the wolf breathing.
Anything to block you out.
How many times can I turn?
Just a cot, but it seems so big without you.
Don't think, don't ask the one question.
I was going with you,
Why can't you come back for me?
The nights are the worst.

Hannah Lenon
aka hel
nemomus@academic.nemostate.edu
"I'm NOT speaking to you!"  Death, Brief LIves, Neil Gaiman