It's the dead of night,
and I can't rest my
bothered eyes
as they are too busy fixated
on the handle of the
north door, awaiting
a jiggle of a kind.

It's the birth of the dawn,
and I can't rest my
weary heart as it's too
busy beating,
biding for you to come by
and sprinkle your smile
into all the nooks
of this empty palace.

e.campagna