I try to sleep, jealous
of those who can speak eloquently.
I stutter my prose, frozen by my fears
I can not sing.
I wash my hands in the bathroom sink, to get rid of the smell of the day and dirt
Before I lay beside my wife,
My cat is shovelling through the blankets,
Desperate for the warmth we share.
In these final hours,
before tonight becomes yesterday,
I know that I can not sing.
And I realize, that I really do not care.