Spur-of-the-moment prose. More for exercise than anything.
***

WHITE NOISE

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Midnight, far from sunrise breaking
Stars still crystallize the sky
Lightest sound turns sleep to waking
Pries apart a welded eye
Conscious now, sweet respite shattered
Hounded once again by naught
Neutral tones that pulsed and scattered
Sounding louder than they ought
Bits and pieces, vast and varied
Meld into a floating hum
Even though my head is buried
‘neath my pillow, still they come
Toss and turn and burrow deeper
Yet the white noise trickles in
Bane of any would-be sleeper
Is that soft, relentless din

***
© me