Over a Cup of Tea at 2 a.m.

Sometimes sleep eludes me.
This night I just can’t seem to grasp
the calm required to close my eyes,
shut down the spinning of my mind,
quiet the thoughts that bubble up
like the foamy froth on boiling water.

Here in the darkness I sense movement,
only it’s not in the shadows
that drench the empty room,
rather it is in my mind, my heart,
a swarming, buzzing mass of discontent,
for the life that I lead by day.

I long for the tranquility of dreams.
They hover here, whispering above me,
just beyond my grasp, like the steam
slowly rising from my cup,
warming my face, tickling my skin,
and then disappearing.