Counting Stars

In the depths of night, my weary soul sighs,

Heavy-lidded dreams dance like fireflies.

Yet a tempest within keeps me wide awake,

Each thought a wave crashing, each moment I break.

The pillows call softly, their embrace so sweet,

But my mind spins in circles, relentless and fleet.

I count the hours like grains of sand,

Wishing for solace, a gentle hand.

Rest is a stranger, elusive and shy,

As shadows of worries drift silently by.

I long for the stillness, the peace of release,

But the clamor of thoughts offers no hint of ease.

So I wander through memories, both bitter and bright,

Caught in the ebb and the flow of the night.

With every deep breath, I chase after calm,

Yet the weight of my burdens feels heavy as balm.

Oh, to close my eyes, to surrender, to fade—

But the world keeps on spinning, my comfort delayed.

So here I remain, in this restless expanse,

Tired yet alert, in a sleepless romance.