Nights.

Nights.

Darkness falls upon the day.

A chill rolls in from whichever way.

The moon decides how much to show.

Stars rise for the occasion and glow.

Fear creeps up your neck and into your head.

Pull the covers up and sink into bed.

Russian roulette…

dream or nightmare,

we don’t know yet.

The lucky ones dream of love and wealth.

The rest of us,

a nightmare slides off the shelf.

Eye lids fall for only a short while,

wake in a sweat, like you ran a mile.

Reach for the light...click.

Your alone.

Head to the stick,

pour yourself a glass of Kentucky thick.

Chills are gone,

warm inside.

A few more sips and asleep at last.

Nights.

The hardest part of the day.