This book holds the items for the contest I enter in 2019, 2020, and beyond.
For me midnight was the witching hour,
When one day died, and another was born,
It was the hour of dark magic and fear,
When the veil between the planes was thinnest.
The hour when yesterday's ghosts came to haunt
My dreams, when they woke me up screaming,
It was the loneliest hour of the day
When I stared hopeless into the darkness.
Now midnight is the hour of reflection,
When my sleepless mind supplicates the Lord,
When I raise my voice asking forgiveness,
And intone gratitude for my blessing.
In the silence of midnight, I attempt
To bring myself and my day to account.
Poet's Note: ▼